Thirteen Years
by doolittledarvey
Summary: When Donna is attacked and almost killed by her boyfriend, Harvey must wrestle his own guilt to help her through it. Will she be able to pull down the wall he has built between them while she is also coping with the most traumatic event of her life? Multi-chapter Donna POV. Warning: Bit dark, but I only do happy Darvey endings! Stick with me and I hope you enjoy! :) x
1. Chapter 1 - The Support Act

THIRTEEN YEARS

Chapter One – the Support Act

It felt like forever.

We had been waiting in the office, the three of us, all afternoon. Louis was a state. I needed to sit next to him, to hold him, to tell him everything would be okay, but what the hell did I know? He had cried most of the afternoon with me there by his side, trying to comfort him as best I could but all I wanted to do was leave that office and find him. I needed to see his face … I needed to hold him in that way we always held each other – without touching.

Jessica needed him too. I could tell. She'd broke out the scotch and we'd all drank more than we should, but she needed him here far more than she needed us. She had a plan, well she had several options that she'd already begun to plough through in that brilliant mind of hers, but she needed him to listen to her ideas, not us. I admired her calling us all to action so optimistically when deep down we all knew it was going to take a miracle to fix this. Jessica needed him to fix this. She needed his drive, his talent and his aggression.

The evening was creeping through the windows of the office, casting that familiar, unnatural light onto our floor. 'Our' floor. My stomach flipped over as I realised this wasn't going to be 'ours' for much longer. Not with a crew of five. Maybe even four. Could Rachel come back here after everything that had happened? Could she live with us – with him – enjoying freedom while the man who held her heart was serving time in prison?

I had sent him six text messages with no response. Jessica had been on the phone non-stop for four hours while Louis sank farther and farther into a state of abject panic. His eyes stared blankly around the room as we waited. Waited for Harvey to finally show up. All I wanted to know right now was that he was safe. My legs were numb and my insides felt like they had been twisted into a thousand knots. Please let him be ok. Please let him be in a fit state and get straight back in the ring. Please don't let this be our last fight.

All of our partners were gone. Our associates had jumped ship. There was a scattering of support staff in IT, Reception, Accounts and Admin, but without any lawyers what the hell did we need them for? There was going to be no work to do, no clients trusted us and nobody believed in us.

Then there was another fear pulling at my chest. How was I going to support him through this when we all knew it was his fault? He knew it was his fault. He knew that night he came to my apartment, his eyes clouded with tears of shame and guilt. It had taken the best part of me to convince him not to turn himself in. I won, Rachel lost. Poor Mike wasn't as lucky.

Resentment, bitterness and blame hung in the air unspoken. Louis was definitely going to be a problem. Rachel was going to need a lot of love. What about Jessica? Was she still going to be able to hold him high on a pedestal after he's done this to her? She's lost everything she's spent her entire life working towards and the responsibility for that lies squarely on his broad shoulders.

And what about me?

Thirteen years. For thirteen ridiculous years I've been playing this game. You see, I know what people think of me. I know they look at me and they see - well obviously they see how awesome I am. That goes without saying! But I'm sure some people can see beneath my carefully structured front. Because under the bold walk and the sassy comebacks lies a different truth. For thirteen years the point of my existence has been to make somebody else happy. And I have allowed my own happiness to depend on his.

It was fun to begin with. The office banter kept me going. The glint in his eye. The smirk. The cheeky one-liners. The innuendo. The one-time-sex. Who am I kidding? It kept me alive. I loved it then and I love it now.

But if you'd told me thirteen years ago that this is where I'd be today I would have ran. I would have ran to Bratton Gould or any of the other firms that wanted me because my life, underneath the orchestrated showcase of awesomeness that I present to the outside world, is basically pretty shit.

My heart aches for something I cannot have. My heart aches for a life I've lost. My heart aches for who I was thirteen years ago. I want her back. I want to wake up tomorrow morning and see the Donna of thirteen years ago looking back at me in a mirror and I want to tell her to run. "Just run … and don't look back no matter what your heart tells you." I wish I could tell her not to fool herself into thinking he would eventually see what was standing right in front of him. I wish I could tell her to give up. I wish I could tell her that heart and head are two giants forever fighting a groundhog-day battle. I wish I could tell her " _ **heart never wins**_."

So, if I've worked all of this out, why don't I run now? What's stopping me? What's pulling me down as if there was a dead weight around my neck?

Well I've tried. Last year I told him our working together just wasn't working for me anymore and I moved to Louis's desk. It was a pathetic move on my part because I still saw him every day, but I told myself that this is what I needed. I needed to break the dependency and I needed to allow my heart to heal. He couldn't give me what I needed. He would never be able to. He loved me, but he didn't love me. Yeah, I got that. I got it from the start.

Then we were right back to square one. It came full circle. As soon as Mike's secret was discovered we all went into overdrive. I needed him again. He needed me again. I remember every second of telling him I was moving back to his desk. I'll never forget that look on his face. That spark in his eye. My stomach somersaulted and … yet again … I found myself falling head first down that helter-skelter spiral. Was it possible he did love me like that after all? Or did he not? Did he even know? Did I even know?

I hated myself for that indulgence. That pitiful delusion. When would I learn? Was it going to take another thirteen years before I'd realise I'd wasted my entire life waiting for someone who just wasn't capable of loving anybody, never mind me. I was grateful when the intensity of work resumed and I could focus on something else. With Mike's trial we were busy and we were fighting. Both of us – the dream team – were back.

Now the dream team has been blown apart and scattered to the wind, along with our dearest friends. That might be our forever, or we might fix it. The outcome would depend on him.

So I've promised myself something and I need you to convince me I'm doing the right thing because lord knows if he looks at me that way, or says those 'right' words to me, or gives me any indication that he actually could feel that kind of love for me, then I can tell you for damn sure I'll cave. So do we have a deal? Are you going to help me out?

Good! So, here it is warts and all: I've promised myself that as soon as we're back on our feet I'm going to run. Not down the hall to somebody else's desk and not even to another firm in the city. You get one shot at life and I'm just not living it because of him. I need to live my life. Chicago, Boston, LA? Or maybe Miami. I think I could do with a spot of all year sunshine even if I'd need to take out a second mortgage to pay for the sunblock! Damn my stupid pale-as-the-moon skin!

I see him coming.

Thank god for that.

Time to put on the Versace armour and the Dior war-paint and line up the troops. This I can do. Actually, I'm the only person who can do it. I'm the only person who can pick all three of them up and say the right words to them.

I'm forever the support act.

But, I'll play my role one last time.


	2. Chapter 2 - Emotional Glue

**Ok, so I'm really enjoying writing this and I've made Chapter Two intense and angsty and very long because you've had to wait a bit longer than usual for it. Please review and let me know if I'm on the right track. I've never written 1** **st** **person POV before.**

 **Sorry for the delays. My country broke itself last week and I've imploded with sadness. I think I've let it all out in this story. Je Suis Europe! Forever.**

X X X

THIRTEEN YEARS

Chapter Two – Emotional Glue

He looks broken as he enters Jessica's office, greeting us with a vague nod before pouring himself a drink. His face is ashen and his beautiful dark eyes are deep with regret and watery with guilt.

"They've all gone?"

His words gasp into the room and my heart breaks for him. He stands awkwardly, his shoulders hunched as though he's already given up. I can feel his pain. I can see the invisible weight he's been carrying for weeks has finally overpowered him. I wonder how his legs are still holding up a body that looks set to crash through the floor.

Jessica rises and tells him the situation and I watch as he takes it all in, running his hand through his hair as his body stiffens and the veins in his neck pulse with stress. Everyone knows I'm an empath, right? I can sense what people are thinking just by looking at them. Just by feeling the lightness or thickness of the air around them. I know Harvey Specter. I know how he's feeling right now. My senses are going into overdrive as I sit in the room watching him react to the news. I hear him gulp and it's as loud as a gunshot. I smell his sweat and it's as strong as gasoline. I taste his fear and it's as bitter as grapefruit. I see the strongest man I know falling before my eyes and all I want to do is run to him and hold him and touch him and …

But I don't.

Of course I don't.

His eyes lock with mine as he talks with Jessica and I do my best to let him know I'm there for him, my gaze fixing upon his until I see the left edge of his mouth tweaking upwards ever so slightly and he blinks in acknowledgement.

He knows I'm here for him. He knows I'm holding him up. He knows I have faith in him.

Harvey knows I'll be here by his side, just as I always have and instantly I feel guilty that I'm keeping a secret from him. I'm keeping my unhappiness from him. How could I have been so low as to think of myself when he is hurting this badly? How can I even think of leaving him – of leaving everybody – when he needs me? I know it would destroy him, so I place it back into the farthest corner of my mind. Again. Now is not the time for 'me'.

Right now I need him to fix this.

I turn to Louis and I can feel the heat emanating from the angry mist surrounding his body. I place my hand on his and he flinches slightly, but then he relaxes under my touch. His reddened eyes turn to meet mine and he inhales a rackety, trembling breath in order to steady himself. I grip his arm tighter. "It's going to be okay, Louis," I whisper. He nods and sniffs. He doesn't believe me. I don't believe me.

But I know he knows that I'm here for him too.

I accept that this is my role and I'm proud of it. I'm the emotional glue. I may 'just' be a secretary, but I know I have extraordinary power. I know I can keep us all together. I can convince. I can persuade. I can champion. I can promote. These are important skills, just the same as being a great lawyer, right? Maybe you agree, maybe you don't, but I know how I feel about myself, I love who I am and I know these people need and respect me and see me as their equal. A different equal, but an equal all the same.

And this life that I have – the life of the supporter and the mediator – well, I could have things a lot worse. So what if I'm not married with a couple of kids? That isn't what everyone gets in life no matter how much they want it. And my God, I did want that. I still do want that. If I leave I'd have to start from scratch, but that wouldn't worry me, because I'm not like Harvey, Jessica or Louis or even Rachel. I don't live for work and my job doesn't define me. I know I can make a life for myself again in no time. I live to make friends. Shit, even as I say that out loud I realise. 'I live for other people'. That is who I am! My life, my happiness, depends on other people and my talent is what I do for them. I've always been able to draw people towards me. It's effortless on my part. I don't want to blow my own trumpet (much) but hey, I know I'm fun to be around! I know I'm witty and popular and I know I have this way of making people feel good about themselves. I always find the right words and I understand what makes people tick. I know who they are sometimes better than they know themselves and if you cut me open you'd probably find 'I'm a people person' etched on my bones. Even if, let's be honest, it's usually me supporting and loving other people rather than the other way around, I need to appreciate that even that's because I'm strong. I know I'm stronger than Harvey. Despite his extraordinary outer strength and his confidence in what he does, I'm stronger than him. He needs me. He's always needed me. I think he need me more than I need him and I know his need is what has kept me here for so many years.

I hear Jessica issuing some orders. She's rattled off several of her plans and all three of them know what they're going to be doing tomorrow. I know too, without Jessica having to tell me. I know she'll expect me to be the emotional glue. I watch as Harvey removes his jacket and tie and rolls up his sleeves. He's removing his armour – his suit – but he's getting ready for the next battle.

"There's no point you know. We may as well just forget about all of this …" Louis crumbles as he sits next to me. His wet face looking like a wrung out dishcloth.

I squeeze his arm again and shush him, but I can see and feel Harvey's dander rising. I know these are words he won't want to hear.

"Goddamn it Louis, don't go down this road. We've got work to do, but fixing this isn't impossible."

"Harvey's right, Louis. Come on. We can't give up without a fight," chimes in Jessica.

"Bullshit!" Louis's body straightens as he spits his bitterness into the room. "This is all bullshit. We can't do this. We're finished!" His body slumps back into Jessica's sofa and I feel my own eyes well with tears as I watch this dear man break. Months of pressure has finally broken my friend and he's lost everything he loves too. This firm was his life. It was all he had.

I turn to look at Harvey and I can see he's angry. He strides towards Louis and I know he's going to let rip. I flash him a glare. I warn him that this is not the time. He notices and he shrinks back, his body posture shifting from confrontational to accepting. I see him change his approach as he stands in front of Louis and lowers his voice. "I know this is all my fault and I'm going to fix it."

"How?"

He looks at me again and I see there's a spark in his eye. That familiar glint of mischief that I know so well. I feel my shoulders relax as I see the faintest of smiles emerge on his face. "With a short trip downstairs to see the coffee cart guy."

"Coffee? I don't want coffee! What the hell are you talking about, Harvey? This is serious."

Louis doesn't know what he means, but I do. So does Jessica. We look at each other and we snigger.

"What's going on?" says Louis as he looks between me and Jessica, his eyebrows creased into a confused frown.

Harvey grabs his jacket and walks to the door, shooting me a wink as he leaves.

X X X

"Who needs another drink?" says Jessica as she moves to top up our glasses. We've been sitting quietly for a few minutes, trying to reassure Louis that all isn't lost and I can sense Jessica is getting tired of having to mollycoddle him. She has mellowed over the years, but her tolerance for Louis's roller-coaster of emotions often wears thin.

When Jessica turns to Louis, he places his hand over his own glass. "I'm done. Jesus I couldn't drink anything else and I certainly don't want goddamn coffee. Do I look like I need to be up all night with a caffeine buzz ringing in my brain after everything that's happened today?"

I turn to Jessica. "Are you going to tell him or shall I?"

"Tell me what?"

Jessica steps forward. "Louis, coffee isn't the only thing the coffee cart guy sells."

"Yeah, yeah I know. I bought a banana sesame seed muffin off him just yesterday." He shrugs his shoulders, signalling his confusion.

"We're not talking muffins," says Jessica. "Although, I've heard, he also does a line of magic muffins."

"Magic muffins? What the hell are you talking about … wait … you mean? … That guy sells pot? Harvey's going to take the pot?"

"I think we're all going to take the pot," says Jessica suggestively, and I laugh.

Louis is horrified and he shoots up out of the sofa. "No way!" he says his arms gesticulating widely. "No way in hell! And I forbid both of you from doing it with him."

"You forbid me?" says Jessica authoritatively, narrowing her eyes for effect. I watch Louis shrink down and avert his gaze sheepishly. "Don't knock it 'til you've tried it, white boy. I've just lost everything I've spent my entire life working for today and it's either this or I shoot my goddamn self."

"But it's a slippery slope, Jessica. The thin end of the wedge. Sure it might seem like a good idea right now, but what comes next? The both of you shooting up in a crack den while Harvey pimps you out to pay for his next fix?"

"Louis, don't be ridiculous we've done it before."

"What?" Both me and Louis simultaneously snap around to that news. How hadn't I heard about this?

"Sure. We did it right here in my office the night Obama won his first election," says Jessica.

"Did what? Crack, meth? I wouldn't be surprised if Harvey was high the day he hired Mike Ross!"

"I'll forget I just heard you say that, Louis."

We all looked around to see Harvey had returned, a folded up newspaper under his right arm containing that which we all knew he had just purchased. Louis mumbled an apology, but continued to protest that no way in hell was he taking the pot. Jessica told him she didn't care whether he did or not and she and Harvey ploughed straight in. I could tell Louis was silently begging me to back his protest, but if this was something Harvey and Jessica needed to do to start the healing process, then who was I to stop them? Ultimately, I figured 'what the hell' and I joined them.

X X X

I've always hated smoking. My grandma smoked when I was a kid and I remember that awful clawing taste in the air of her little house on the outskirts of Courtland. My mom used to hate it. She would complain about the smell of tobacco in my hair the second I came home after visiting and she used to put me straight in the bath, complaining to dad about how grandma was killing me as well as herself. I didn't completely know the dangers of smoking back then. I was just a kid and it was just what grandma did – what all people of her generation did. She was born in 1910 and she lived through two world wars. She wasn't aware of the dangers when she started and yes, she did eventually die of cancer, so smoking, aside from a rebellious period when I was seventeen, is something I've never done. Tobacco or marijuana.

Until now.

I picked up the joint which Harvey had made mixing pot with tobacco and I tried to copy Jessica, placing it into my mouth and inhaling. Instantly I could feel the back of my throat burn and I felt like I was going to be sick.

"Jesus, Donna, breathe it out!" shrieked Harvey, clearly amused by my not knowing what the hell I was doing.

Louis snatched the joint off me. "Here, you do it like this."

We all froze in surprise for a moment before bursting into laughter. Louis the closet pot-head? What the hell were all the protestations about if he knew what he was doing?

Two puffs, and then he was off.

"What? You know I went to college." He shrugged as we continued to laugh at him.

For the next hour we listened as Louis unburdened himself of his past. We learned all about his parents and how Esther was always the favourite. We learned about his best friend in high school – the one who hung out with him so he could sneak into Esther's bedroom and steal her underwear. We learned about his first trip to the theatre, his first mud, the strange neo-zombie-apocalyptic reason he started attending the shooting range (oh yes, Harvey would definitely use Louis's secret fear of blood-sucking zombies against him in the future!) … oh and don't get me started about all the cat stuff. Who knew that he'd still miss Mikado?

Harvey and Jessica were okay – they were sitting at the opposite end of the room immersed in their own trip down memory lane. So it was left to me to listen to all the regrets, victories, passions and fears of Louis's life. His loving and losing of Sheila. His five year crush on Monica Eton. Occasionally he laughed. Occasionally he sobbed. He didn't give me the joint back and I didn't care, but the whole time he was talking I was willing him to leave so I could be alone with Harvey. Don't get me wrong, it was great that we were all doing this and it was therapeutic to be talking so freely after everything we'd been through, but I felt a deep urge within me to be close to Harvey. I needed to talk to him. I needed to help him. There was so much I wanted to ask him and each time I caught his eye I sensed that he needed to offload too.

X X X

As night crept into the office Louis fell asleep. Should we wake him or should we let him sleep it off? We decided to leave him. We thought it would be kinder on him and easier on us. Jessica was a bit worried for her sofa given there was a large pool of drool collecting under Louis's head as he snuggled into her velvet cushions, but she was tired and wanted to get home. She opted to leave him where he was rather than try to move him and she left.

And at last we were alone.

Harvey retreated to his office and poured both of us another glass of scotch. He was smiling, but of course I could tell there was so much behind his smile that he was resisting talking about. That's the hallmark of who Harvey Specter is. 'Show them you care and they'll walk all over you.'

"So, how are you feeling?"

He looked at me as if I was dumb. It probably was a dumb question. How would anyone feel after taking their best friend to prison? How are you supposed to feel if you're responsible for putting him there? What if you'd destroyed your firm in the process too?

"I'm … erm … well I'm stoned and I'm drunk, if that's what you mean?" he said with an enormous grin plastered across his face.

He put on a record. Something I didn't recognise. It was slow and jazz-y. I sat down on his sofa and he sat opposite me, crossing his legs and concentrating intently on the scotch in his tumbler as he swirled it around and around. I could smell the spicy aroma as the amber liquid flicked at the sides of his glass. Soon the grin disappeared, replaced by a deep frown.

I cocked my head to one side. "Do you want to talk about it?" God, all I wanted to do was envelop him in my arms and hold him, but I was fighting that urge with everything I had.

He shook his head as he drank. "Nothing to say. I screwed up. Mike took the hit. Up to me to fix it."

"Okay, well do you know how …?"

"No idea. It's pretty much gone to shit, Donna." He smiled at me and my stomach flipped. He looked so sad and so helpless. "Hey, I'll think of something though. I'm not finished yet!"

I smiled back and crossed my hands on my lap, locking my fingers together. I realised what I was doing. I was uniting with him subconsciously. I smiled inwardly at the Freudian-ness of that gesture.

"I'm … err … really sorry, Donna."

"What for?"

"You know what for."

The game had begun. I didn't have a clue what for.

"I'm sorry for getting you in this mess. I'm sorry for everything. I shouldn't have done this to you and I should never have involved you with Mike's secret."

I sat forward on the sofa and smiled at him. "Don't worry about me Harvey. I haven't lost anything. Let's just concentrate on you and whether you'll be okay."

He smiled at me in that way that made my insides somersault. "You always do that," he said softly.

"Do what?"

"You know? You always say the right thing. You always put me first. Why do you do that?"

Shit. Panic. I felt my face flush at his question because I knew the true answer. But surely he knew why too? We'd been dancing this dance for too many years. "Because this is my job," I lie. Shit. Really lame response, Donna! Well done!

He looked back at his drink again and kept his head low. "Why did you do it?"

Again I don't know what he means. Why did I say the right things? Why did I come back to his desk?

"Why did you stop me turning myself in?"

'Ah that'. How do I answer without those three words? "You know why, Harvey. I told you why."

"You said because you didn't want to lose me and for a moment I thought … well, never mind. It doesn't matter now. Sorry. Forget I asked."

"No, talk to me Harvey. Tell me what you thought?" Did I even want to know his answer to this? Was now the right time?

He looked at me and it was that same face I saw in my apartment a year ago when he told me he loved me. The same face in his apartment when I told him I was coming back to his desk. That was 'my face' – my smile. It belonged to me and … yep, you guessed it. I was getting dragged down into that pond of 'what ifs' again. Jesus, don't let me stay underwater too long. I am so close to drowning already.

He stood up, walked around the coffee table and took a seat next to me. I turned to face him and did my best to ignore the flutters that were rippling inside of me. My legs started to tremble and I could feel my heart start to race, an uncomfortable ache at the back of my throat.

"I would have turned myself in if you hadn't stopped me. You made me … Rachel said she begged Mike, but he went ahead and did it anyway. It just made me think why …" He looked into my eyes and I willed him to just take hold of me and kiss me and tell me that he loved me, but then he looked away again, bowing his head … running ... "… why did I do what you asked without question, Donna? Mike didn't listen to the woman he was going to marry – the woman he wants to spend the rest of his life with. So why did I listen to you?"

I froze and there was a moment where we both were breathing so fast I didn't know which breaths were mine, and which were his. "That's something only you can answer, Harvey."

He fiddled with his cufflinks as he struggled to process his emotions. I could see him trying to speak, but then thinking twice about it. This is how he was and God I was tired of it. I accidentally sighed too loudly in frustration and he noticed.

"You mean so much to me."

Wham! I feel like I've been hit by a wrecking ball, all the air getting knocked out of me. "What…?" I gasp as my breathing quickens again.

"I mean you're the most important person in my life and that's why I listen to you. I'd probably do anything you told me to do and that scares me. I don't know if I should?"

Double wham! So 'I mean so much to him' in a platonic sense? Again? Nice backtrack Harvey. And what the hell does he mean? He doesn't know if he should do what I tell him? What the actual hell? Am I that bossy?

"I shouldn't be sitting here, Donna. It shouldn't be me out here. Mike had his whole life ahead of him. I've seen Rachel, she's a mess. She begged Mike not to cut that deal, but he went ahead anyway. If I hadn't listened to you … and right now I wish I hadn't listened to you. I wish you hadn't begged me not to. I'm sorry, I … this is just how I feel. Mike should be sitting here with Rachel. Mike should have his freedom, not me. He had something worth living for. I have nothing."

I could barely speak. "You're blaming me for this?" I croaked out the words as tears sprang from my eyes and started to roll down my cheeks. The hurt stung and the pain was sharp.

"No, no, God no … Donna, I'm not blaming you … damn it, I'm sorry. That's not what I meant." He took my hand in his as I sniffed back my tears. His hands were cold. We rarely touched but as soon as I felt his skin brush mine I faded back into him, forgetting myself. Forgetting my hurt.

"I'm okay, its fine." I sniffed again and I tried not to look at him but I could feel his eyes watching me and eventually I met his gaze. "I just told you what I wanted, Harvey. That's all. I didn't want to lose you. I wanted you to wait for the verdict."

"Yeah, well you were right. We should have waited."

I nodded. "I know. I wish I hadn't been right. It would make this all easier."

"I wish you'd talked to Mike too."

"Rachel talked to Mike and we're not them. He wouldn't have listened to me the way you did."

He sighed and let go of my hands, sitting forward and reaching for his drink again. "No he wouldn't I guess. You … erm … well you know me so well."

"Thirteen years, Harvey."

"Thirteen? Is it really?"

"Coming up."

"Remember that night in the bar when we met?"

"Of course, how can I forget?"

"You weren't just a pretty face, remember?"

"And I'm not."

"You were so into me," he teased.

I laughed. "Yeah, whatever you think, hotshot."

"Do you wish you could go back?"

"You can never go back, Harvey."

He twisted his mouth. "I'm talking hypothetically. I'm not suggesting we break out the Delorean!"

I giggle at the thought of Harvey in a red bomber jacket, baseball cap and a hoverboard. Now there's an image! "Maybe there's a couple of things I'd do differently."

"Really?" he asked. He looked a bit worried. "Like what?"

"Ah, now that would be telling …"

"So tell me. What would you do differently?"

I thought briefly about the dangers of revealing too much, but then I figured it was appropriate to open up right now. He was trying. We hadn't had a conversation like this for a while. "Okay, well I wouldn't have destroyed that memo." Nice starter, Donna! I think as he grins at me. No secret that that was my darkest moment. "I wouldn't have had a relationship with Stephen Huntley, I would have made you send Mike to law school right away, I would have told you I hated Scottie … I would …"

"Wait a minute, you hated Scottie?" He interrupts, rolling his eyes. "Now there's a shocker!"

"Well it's not that I hated her … it's … erm … more like …"

"Hey, no backtracking. I got you on that, so just continue."

"I wouldn't have left you for Louis."

"You wouldn't?" He seemed shocked at this and he turns to face me again, putting his glass down on the table. "Why?"

As always my honesty overrides my common sense. I should have said that. "Because that decision hurt you and I wouldn't have chosen to do that intentionally."

He looked confused and he squinted through his tired, drunken eyes. "So you weren't punishing me?"

"What? No!" I say it quickly and decisively so he's under no illusion. "I just needed some space, Harvey."

"I know. I understand. I was a dick, wasn't I?"

I laughed at his tone of voice and his sheepish, naughty school-boy expression. "Yeah, you were." I bump my shoulder with his and we laugh again.

"We never did have that conversation, did we?"

"Which one?"

"The one after you asked me 'love me how'?"

I gulp and my face burns. Damn it, why did I have to drink so much? I'm not ready for this. "No we didn't."

"I was scared."

"I know."

"I was scared of how I felt … about you."

"I know."

He laughs. "You know because you're Donna?"

I raise one eyebrow. Doesn't everyone know that's how I know everything? "Of course."

"So why did you leave?"

"For the reasons I told you, Harvey. I needed space. I was tired of you not being able to express how you felt. It wasn't fair on me. I was mad that you don't fight for what you want – except in here. With work. Plus you hurt me … you …" His whole demeanour changes the second I say that and I trail off. I wish I hadn't said that. Harvey wouldn't be able to bear the thought of hurting me.

"I didn't mean what I said. I didn't tell you that I loved you to make you feel better. I don't pity you. It's just …" He falters again, turning back to his cufflinks, fidgeting with the golden bar at his sleeve. I place my hand on his wrist instinctively to focus him and he flinches slightly before covering my hand with his and giving it a squeeze. Jesus if he kissed me now ...

"It's okay, Harvey. I know."

"No, you don't. You can't know because I was too chicken shit scared to tell you. I can do it now though. I've had some training … with my feelings."

"Dr. Agard?" I ask with a smile.

"Yeah, Dr. Agard. She's better than you at this stuff."

"Bullshit."

We both laugh again and it dilutes the intensity in the air, breaking that hot, gut-wrenching tension that had twisted both of our insides together in knots. Then, he grips my hand tighter and we're back to square one. I feel nauseous as I shiver under his touch. He notices and gives me a smile – 'my smile' – again. That doesn't help. I can feel his touch in every part of my body, not just my hand. I feel it inside me.

"I do love you like that."

I can feel my eyes grow wide and I can feel my mouth fall open. "I know." Wait … I just said 'I know'. Did I know? I know now. His eyes are so deep that they pull me in and it's like I'm in an alternate universe. Was this really happening? Did he just say those things to me? Did I? He moves closer and he rests his forehead on mine, his hand moving through my hair, caressing the nape of my neck and we both breathe faster than we've ever breathed before.

"Harvey, I …?"

"Sssh," he says gently as he holds my head, his fingers entwined in my hair, his skin damp with sweat against mine. Neither of us move.

"I should go." I hear myself say those words and my heart wants to leap out of my chest and drag them back into my mouth. I want to cry as I realise I've mirrored his response to what happened between us a year ago.

"Why?" he mirrors in return.

"You know … why."

"I don't want you to go."

"Harvey, this isn't the right time."

"I need you. Please … Donna … I ..."

"I have a boyfriend, Harvey."

He breaks our strange waltz and he looks at me with eyes I've never seen before. Desperation? Loss? Dejection? "I'm sorry … I didn't realise. Is it … are things serious with him?"

I want to say no. I want to say Mitchell means nothing to me. I want to stay and kiss him and hold him and love him and tell him it's always been him and that I'd drop Mitchell tomorrow if he asked me to be his, but I don't.

Harvey may have been scared a year ago, but I'm scared now. I don't want my heart broken again. Not now. Not when we have a war on our hands. Maybe I'll regret this later. Maybe I've totally blown it forever. Maybe he's ready … finally … and I've just walked away from the only chance I'll ever get. Maybe … ?

"We've just been dating a few months, but this isn't about him … not entirely … you're stoned and you're drunk … and …" I place my hand on his face and I cup his cheek, my thumb softly stroking his skin. He reaches up and covers my hand with his and he closes his eyes and inhales deeply. "This just isn't the right time. There's too much at stake."

"Ah-hmm" he mumbles, his eyes still closed.

I withdraw my hand and I wonder what the hell I'm doing. "See you tomorrow," I say as I get up and leave the office, my legs somehow walking forwards instead of running back to him.

You think I'm mad, don't you? Well, I can assure you it took everything I had in me to stop myself from going back into that room, throwing my arms around his neck and kissing him like it was the first time I'd kissed anybody. Well maybe not the first time because that was Danny Whitmore in 3rd grade and … well … okay … I was eight and it would be wrong to re-enact that. So, why did I run? Why did I walk away from that moment? Well I've lay in bed for three hours now replaying today and I can honestly tell you I don't entirely know why or how I managed to walk away. Every fibre of my being wanted to stay, but I didn't. A force of gravity was dragging me in and I could have so easily succumbed. I close my eyes and I can imagine a kiss. I can imagine what he would have tasted like – strong and bitter, hot and soft. I can imagine more than a kiss. I can imagine us having sex right there on his sofa. I can imagine how he would have made my body feel. I can feel him inside me even though I sent him away. I ache for what I let go.

But what if we had given in and had everything? Would I be lying in his bed right now? Probably. But, this is Harvey Specter we're talking about. THE Harvey Specter. The guy who has screwed up every relationship with every woman he's ever met. And yes, I include myself in that group of lost souls. The 'other' time happened and it was awesome. We were awesome together. We would be …

Okay, stop thinking about it! My head won. My heart wanted him, but my head told me he was drunk, stoned and the lowest he's even been in his entire life. I know him. I know he'd wake up tomorrow morning and say or do something so fucking stupid and I wouldn't be able to handle it. After everything we've been through, that would have finished me and I'd be on that plane to Miami faster than you could say unindicted co-conspirator.

And we'd all be finished. Not just me and Harvey, but Jessica, Louis, Rachel … and Mike too.

Because I'm the emotional glue, remember?

My purpose is to hold everyone together, even if I'm falling apart too.


	3. Chapter 3 - Back-up Plan

THIRTEEN YEARS

CHAPTER THREE – Back-up Plan

The last few weeks have been a blur of setting meetings, signing clients and fighting law suits.

Harvey rolled up his sleeves and began the fight to win back the firm the day after Mike went to prison and it has been one late night after another for all of us. Every morning I'm at my desk by 6.00am. Every evening I tumble into bed after 9.00pm. Sometimes after 10.00pm. I don't complain. It's worth it to see us slowly re-building our world, brick by brick.

So, we got some staff back, we rescued some clients and we managed to avert the law suits which came our way following the revelation that Mike was a fraud. We had to rent out most of our office space, meaning Pearson Specter Litt are now located in a small corner of the 48th floor of our building, but at least we're still there. Oh, and don't get me started on our 'tenants'. Bankers, architects, douchebags … I spend most of my day arbitrating between them and Louis who – obviously – can't help himself from getting embroiled in ridiculous conflicts.

And Mike? He's hanging in there and all Harvey can think about is getting him out of jail. It's consuming him day and night and with fighting to save the firm as well as wrestling his guilt I fear he's going to break at any moment, but somehow he's still battling.

Do I still want to leave? Well it's never been that I actually _**want**_ to leave. It's always been the case that I know I _**have**_ to leave. But I can't think about me right now. I have to think about him. And them.

So, today is a Saturday and this evening I'm seeing Mitchell.

I know you're wondering about Mitchell and how he fits into my plans right now, aren't you?

The best way I can describe my relationship with Mitchell is to ask you this: did you ever have a 'back-up'? I know you know what I mean. Did you ever have one guy in your life who you know would 'do' if you reached forty, were still single and needed to just settle for what you could get? Yeah, well that's Mitchell. I feel like a total bitch saying it, but he's my 'make do'. Don't get me wrong. He's a lovely guy. He's just not 'the' guy. He's not Harvey.

I'd known Mitchell Gray for quite a while before we got together. He is an off-Broadway show producer and I first met him around ten years ago. I was friends with his wife – now his ex-wife – and I always thought he was handsome and funny and just an all-round good guy. I remember when I heard that he and Lyndsey had split up. I was sad for them, but after I thought about it some more I wasn't surprised. Lyndsey never understood how important Mitchell's work was and she resented the long hours he spent with his group at the theatre. Mitchell and I are good together because I understand the theatre is his life and he understands that Pearson Specter Litt is mine.

So where does he feature in my plan? I honestly don't know. I mean, I know I don't love him right now. I think I could love him in time. I realise I'm probably being unfair to him, but I'm thankful that his work and the fact he's always busy means that I haven't actually spent that much time with him since we got together anyway. We haven't seen each other – for a proper date – for four weeks because he's been out of town on a short tour. Sure we chat on the phone and that occasionally ends up in a spot of virtual, over-the-phone love making … okay, well I don't want to be crass, but right now he serves a purpose and he fulfils a need. I know you know what I mean!

But like I said, he's not Harvey. My stomach doesn't flip when I sit opposite him in a restaurant. My heart doesn't skip a beat when he smiles at me. When we have sex I manage to do what's expected. I am always awesome. He has no idea that I'm thinking about someone else when I'm with him.

I worry that this makes me an awful person. I worry that I'm being cruel. I know it's not fair on Mitchell. He's a lovely guy. Talented, funny, passionate and totally driven to succeed. He is like Harvey in so many ways. But he's also nothing like Harvey in others. I worry that this means I'm using Mitchell. Oh Christ, get real Donna! I know I'm using Mitchell.

I've stopped thinking about that night in Harvey's office. It's been almost a month and – just as I expected – Harvey has never spoken about it. We're back to being the 'Dream Team' at work and we're winning. Harvey has never asked about Mitchell, but I know he slept with a new client a fortnight ago and I know he picked up a girl in a bar last Tuesday. He was wearing his cream shirt with the blue dot tie the following morning. Oh yeah, I knew.

Same-old Harvey. Same-old Harvey/Donna team. Unfortunately, not same-old me.

X X X

Mitchell arrives to take me out at 7.30pm. He looks great. His fair hair styled much the same as Harvey's and his blue-grey suit – although no Tom Ford – is smart and complements the sparkling blue of his eyes.

He takes me to Santina's in Greenwich Village and we have a lovely evening chatting about the Jersey and Pennsylvania tour of Hamlet he's just finished. He's already excited about a new play he's working on. An 'alternative' production of Troilus and Cressida set during the Civil War. It sounds great and I tell him that I can't wait to see it. He apologises for being so busy. I do too.

We return to my place and I get us some drinks. I think we both know how the night will end. I wonder if I can manage to get through it without thinking about Harvey this time. I hope I can because although imagining I'm with Harvey while I'm screwing Mitchell heightens my performance, it makes me feel like a cruel, selfish bitch afterwards.

"Hey, you know my friend Seb who works at the Orion? Well he's putting the Crucible together for a short run in November and I think you'd be perfect as Elizabeth, I've already mentioned you to him, what do you think?"

Normally I'd be leaping up and down at the thought of getting a part in a play. It's been almost two years since the Merchant of Venice. And the Crucible? Wow… just fucking Wow! That's an awesome play and Elizabeth is a great role. But what would happen to the firm?

"How long is the run?" I say, trying my best to sound optimistic.

"Few months. Seb is auditioning next week. Why don't you go for it?"

Could I? I think of all the actresses in New York who are younger, more available, more talented and less consumed by Harvey Specter than me and I know it's a no. "Oh Mitch, I don't know. I'm so busy right now and …"

Mitchell looks away, his posture heavy with disappointment. "Donna, this is who you are. You need to act. You only get one life. Come on … you can't miss this chance for what? Answering phones in an office?"

What the hell? I feel the red mist form in my mind. I thought he 'got it'. "Mitchell you know I love acting, but I thought you understood about my work. It's more than just answering phones …"

Not for the first time I look into Mitchell's eyes and see that he doesn't get me. But how could he? How could anyone? I'm bound to that firm and I'm stuck to those people with glue. Mitchell shakes his head and mumbles an apology I know he doesn't mean.

"Tell your friend thank you, but I can't. Not right now."

"He won't mind, Donna. He was doing me a favour. I thought you'd be really excited about this."

I can see how frustrated he is and I feel like shit. "I really appreciate the thought, honestly I do, it's just I'm working sixteen hour days right now and I couldn't possibly …"

"Why? Why do you do it?"

I shrug. The truth – 'Because I love him' – wouldn't go down to well. "Because the firm's my family."

He looks at me and I can see him trying his best to understand. It isn't his fault. I have deliberately kept him separate. I have drawn a line between him and them. Him and Harvey.

"It's just a law firm. I'm sorry Donna. I just don't understand why that world has such a hold over you. You're so much more than just a secretary."

"I am more than _**just**_ a secretary right now." I try to disguise the fact I'm starting to feel a little bit insulted, but I know I've failed.

"I'm sorry, Donna. I don't get it and I wish I did. I guess, what I'm saying is I want you to think of me as your family. But I don't know how."

Shit, too much Mitch. I need to keep this casual. "Well, maybe if we spend more time together …"

He smiles at me and sides up closer to me on the sofa. "I'd love to spend more time with you." He starts the process. The box-ticking process of getting from here to there – from sofa to bedroom – has begun. He puts down his glass on the coffee table and he turns to look at me, his eyes locking on mine as he leans in for a kiss.

I kiss him back and he pulls me to my feet, his hands touching and holding me as if this is all he's thought about for the last six weeks we have been apart. I feel him harden in seconds as he pushes against me. I realise that this is probably all he's thought about for the last six weeks as he sweeps me up in his arms and carries me to the bedroom. But this seems different than any time before. He is different – stronger, more forceful and more passionate. Although I try my best to go in the direction he's taking me, I find him unsettling. His kisses are firmer and more intense and I wince as his movements pull at my hair. He whispers a breathless 'sorry', but he still continues in this strange way, throwing me down on the bed and taking off his clothes so quickly that I wonder if his shirt and pants were fastened to him with Velcro.

I close my eyes and will it to be over. I wonder why I'm even doing it if this is how I feel. Have you ever heard of a 'mercy fuck?' You know, the times where you know you have to do it for the guy, but you couldn't give a shit about doing it yourself. Yeah, well this is what that was becoming. Mitchell needed this. I wish I was somewhere else. Don't get me wrong, every other time I've slept with Mitchell, it's been fine. He's been gentle and considerate and loving and, although I can only climax by closing my eyes and imagining it is Harvey who is touching me and holding me and kissing me and screwing me, I've still managed to enjoy it. But this time? Well, not so much.

I move awkwardly underneath him as he fumbles around my body, his hands rough and his mouth possessive as he sucks and bites my skin. I tell him he's hurting me and he says sorry, but he still kisses me as if he's never kissed a woman before in his life and I wonder if my lips will be black and blue tomorrow morning.

He whispers platitudes into my ear. He tells me I'm awesome, I'm beautiful, I'm hot … he tells me what he wants to do to me and how he wants to do it. I let him, but I stare at the ceiling wondering how long that spider's web has been trailing the two leftmost lightbulbs on my chandelier.

Then, without me noticing, I feel my arms above my head and he's holding my wrists to the bedpost, binding them together with his tie. "Mitchell, what …?"

"Sshh …" he says as he knots the silk material around my wrists. I yelp as he pulls the tie tightly and I see his face change. His skin darkens and his eyes seem like they belong to someone else. "God you're so fucking hot …" he pants into my ear.

I struggle as the tightness around my wrists makes me twist awkwardly on the bed. Instinctively, I try to break free, but the pain is unbearable. My fingers feel numb – the blood flow strangled because of how tightly he's bound me. I briefly consider letting him just get on with what he wants to do, but my arms hurt and he keeps kneeing and clawing at me. Mercy fucks are fine as long as I'm in control, but this is far from that. I can't even get myself through it by thinking of Harvey, because Harvey would never make me feel like this.

"Mitchell, please, untie me." My tone is kind and firm, but I want to scream at him to get off me. "Please untie me now."

"Sssh … just go with it," he whispers as he runs his hands down my stomach, playing with the top of my panties.

"Mitchell I don't like this, please untie me." I'm wondering why I'm having to say it again as I feel his hand pushing the fabric of my underwear aside and I can't bear it any more. "Mitchell, get off me NOW!"

He stops what he's doing and kneels next to me on the bed. The intensity fades from his face in a flash, to be replaced by utter confusion. I fight back my tears. I have never felt so exposed … so vulnerable … in all of my life. "Untie me please," I repeat, my voice cracking as I watch his face fill with shame. He realises what he's done and he apologises over and over again. He looks as if he's about to cry.

It only takes a few moments for him to loosen my wrists from the bedpost, but it feels like hours. I start to cry and I honestly don't know if the tears are falling due to pain or anger.

"I'm sorry, I thought you'd like it," he says. I don't answer. I can't. I know he is ashamed and I feel bad for him, but not so bad I'm going to let him off the hook for this. I grab my robe off the chair next to my bed and I wrap it around myself. He pulls on his shorts and shirt.

"I think you should leave."

He looks at me and nods. I can see the guilt. He struggles to look me in the eye as he buttons his shirt so I leave him to it and retreat to the sitting room.

X X X

I don't know what to do with myself.

I sit on the sofa, my throw wrapped around me protectively as I wait for him to dress. My stomach is in knots. I don't know what I want to say to him. I look at my wrists and I can't stop my tears from falling as I see the grazes and broken skin from where I'd tried to struggle free. What the hell just happened to me?

He enters the sitting room and I feel sick. I can't stop crying and he looks like he's shed a few tears himself. He sits next to me and I feel myself recoil from his presence. Do I just finish things with him now? I don't know if I can trust him again.

"Please, I know you're sorry Mitchell, but please just go."

"No, I can't … I …" he rests his hand on my knee under the blanket and I flinch. "Sorry … I …". He is shocked by my reaction and he looks wounded. He runs his hand through his hair and rubs the back of his neck nervously. "I wouldn't have done it if I didn't think you'd enjoy it … I mean … I thought you'd be up for that."

"Mitchell, I had to tell you five times. Five fucking times!"

He looks devastated, but I don't let my anger thaw. I'm not letting him get away with this. He was out of line.

"I don't know what to say. I … I just …"

"Just leave, Mitchell. Please just leave."

He picks his jacket up off the end of the sofa. "Can I call you?"

Do I want him to? Right now, no way in hell do I want to speak to him ever again. "I'll call you," I say. I know I probably won't.

He opens my door and turns back before he leaves. "I _**am**_ truly sorry Donna."

I don't respond.

He leaves and I cry. I feel like calling Harvey, but I don't. What the hell would I say to him? I couldn't tell him what just happened. And not just because he'd track Mitchell down and beat the crap out of him.

I can't tell him because I'm ashamed.

I'm ashamed this happened to me and I know it's my own fault. I led Mitchell on. I lied to him. I pretended that I could love him. I allowed him to believe I was into him. I used him. That doesn't excuse what he did. That is 100% on him. But I should never have been with him in the first place. I shouldn't have 'made-do'.

I realise how pathetic my life is. Who wouldn't pity me? My entire existence is one massive, laughable make-do and I'm fed up with it. This isn't where I want to be anymore.

I need to break free.


	4. Chapter 4 - Broken Skin

THIRTEEN YEARS

Chapter 4 – Broken Skin

I woke up Wednesday morning to the sound of my alarm, followed by a deep sinking feeling in my stomach as memories of the previous night resurfaced. I wasn't sure what was driving this horrible feeling of hopelessness. Was it the knowledge that I'd lost my back-up? Was it the realisation that there was literally nothing left for me here in New York? Or was it the sickening shame which hurt my heart almost as much as the marks on my body were still hurting me. I was falling farther and farther into darkness and for the first time in my life I didn't know how to get back to the light.

I wrestled with the shame as I lay in bed, snoozing my alarm. I'm not the type to wallow in self-pity, but I just don't know how to categorise what happened to me last night. Was it my fault or his? Sure, Mitchell behaved like a complete pig. Sure, he let me see a side to him that made me sick. A side which has finished our relationship – our one-sided relationship. But how the hell did I get myself into this situation in the first place? Why did I think so little of myself that I was willing to settle for a man I couldn't love?

I showered and dressed, choosing a black long-sleeved Gucci number which was slightly inappropriate for the warm weather outside, but it had long sleeves and a high collar and that's what I needed today. I couldn't believe I was actually picking out an outfit for the soul purpose of disguising marks on my body given to me by my boyfriend. I felt pathetic and stupid. How hadn't I known this was who Mitchell Gray was? Why did I keep doing this? It was like Stephen Huntley all over again. Was I so blinded by my love for one man – the one who thinks he can't have me – that I throw myself into relationships with men like this?

I pick up my phone as I leave home and my heart sinks again. Three messages from Mitchell. Three different styles of apology. Three different ways of begging me to call him. Jesus Christ, what do I have to do for him to get the clear message I sent him when I told him to leave last night? All guys know what 'I'll call you' means, don't they? Or have I been under the influence of Harvey for too long? Maybe 'I'll call you' doesn't mean 'go fuck yourself' in everyone's dating book.

I don't want to hear from him anymore. I don't want any more messages from Mitchell. I hate text-dumping, but technically I've already dumped him in person so it's hardly my fault if he's choosing not to accept it. I quickly respond in a way I hope makes my feelings as clear as day:

 _Mitchell, please do not contact me again. I don't feel like we have a future. This isn't just about last night, although after what happened I wouldn't be able to trust you again. Thank you for a good couple of months. I wish you well, Donna xx_

Firm, fair and straight to the point, I think.

X X X

I catch a cab to work and it's just before 7.30am when I arrive at my desk. It's already a really hot day and I'm already regretting the long sleeves of my dress. I run my fingers along the marks on my left wrist and I'm surprised to see rough, mottled scabs have started to form. I hadn't realised he'd broken my skin that badly and the magnitude of what happened hits me again. I know I'm going to struggle to type today as flexing my fingers sends shooting pains up my arms. I feel my eyes water and I wonder if I'm going to get through the day without anybody finding out.

I go to the kitchen and make myself a coffee.

"Hi Donna, how's things?"

I turn around and see Rachel in the doorway. I instantly feel bad because I mustn't have thought about my best friend in the last 24 hours after being by her side for weeks. I feel like I've let her down. "Fine, Rachel. I'm sorry I haven't seen you for a few days. How's school?"

"Oh you know … tough. It's keeping my mind off Mike though."

"How is he?"

"Good and not good."

She looks like she's close to tears and I sweep her up in a hug. Why am I wallowing in self-pity over Mitchell when my best friend is going through this?

After a few moments Rachel pulls away and wipes at her eyes. "I'm sorry. Can we talk about something else?"

I smile reassuringly. "We can talk about anything you want. Hey, wanna see something funny?"

Rachel's face changes and for a second I see the old Rachel return. A faint glimmer of intrigue sparkling in her eyes. I whip out my phone and show her a video I took of Louis, in his office, trying out a pilates routine. Rachel starts to laugh, "oh my, this is priceless!"

"Keep watching, the best is yet to come," I say.

We huddle around the small screen as the moment I've re-watched at least 50 times since Monday arrives. Louis is lying with his back on the floor, then he raises his body up, rests his entire weight on his backward-facing arms and gets stuck. We watch him struggle until he eventually gives into the inevitable and crashes back to the ground, whacking his head in the process. Rachel collapses into hysterics and so do I. I don't think I'll ever get tired of watching that clip.

"Oh my god, that's amazing. How did you manage to keep videoing him while you were laughing so much? It's the funniest thing I've ever seen!"

"It was _very_ difficult to keep the phone still."

I exit the programs on my phone and place it back into my bag. I don't even realise Rachel has stopped laughing until I turn around and see that she's staring at me – her beautiful dark eyes hidden deep beneath a frown.

"What?" I ask with a gasp, my voice unsteady as I worry if she's seen what I've tried so hard to hide.

"Donna, what happened to your neck?"

My hand shoots up to my neck instinctively and I wonder if I could lie. Should I lie? Maybe it would be good to talk. Or maybe Rachel has enough on her plate. "Oh, it's nothing, don't worry about it."

I move to leave and she grabs hold of my wrist to stop me leaving the kitchen. My left wrist. It would have to be the left one, wouldn't it? I yelp out in pain until she leaves go, her face consumed with horror. "What's the matter with your arm? Donna, speak to me now! What the hell has happened?"

"I told you it's nothing …" I see my friend's face stiffen with seriousness and she clenches her jaw. "Rachel, I don't want to talk about it. Please, just drop it."

"What happened? Who did this?"

"Nobody … I …"

"Donna, who did this?"

I lower my voice. "Okay, look, it was … Mitchell. It's nothing really. Just a misunderstanding."

I watched as Rachel's face broke. In less than a second, serious and firm was replaced with concern and sadness. "How long has this been going on?"

I realise she's wondering if I'm in an abusive relationship. She is looking at me as if I'm one of those women on TV who stay with men who beat them because they're too frightened to go it alone and because their partners have destroyed their self-worth. I'm cross that she thinks I could be like that. Surely she knows that isn't me? "No, it's not like that." I see her raise an eyebrow. Shit, she does think I'm one of those women. She isn't buying it.

I motion for her to sit down at the table, the metal chairs squeaking across the floor as we both take a seat. "It was just last night and it was a misunderstanding, that's all. Anyway, I finished it with him so it'll definitely not happen again. It's over."

Rachel still isn't buying it, I can tell by the way she swallows hard at my attempts to brush off what was obvious. "Donna this is serious. You don't hurt someone – especially your girlfriend – due to a misunderstanding. Let me see."

"What?"

"Let me see your arms. Now."

I sigh in defeat. If I don't come clean she's going to think this is worse than it is. Or is she right? Is it worse than I think? Am I just fooling myself that I can brush it aside? I put my arms on the table and let her push up my sleeves. She turns my arms over, from one side to the other, and she gasps as she sees the ugly black bruises and scabbed over grazes. She covers her mouth with her hand and I twitch my nose to stop my tears falling. As I look down at the marks on my skin, I see that everything looks far worse under that bright halogen lights of the kitchen than it did under the much softer lights of my apartment.

"Please, don't say anything," I say with a whisper as Rachel looks as though she's going to cry for me.

"Why did he do this, Donna? How? What else did he do?" She gently pushes my hair to one side and examines the bite marks on my neck and her face crumples. "Oh my god."

"Rachel … shh … please, it's not like that. It's not as bad as you're thinking. He didn't mean to do it."

"Jesus Christ, Donna why are you making excuses for this? Look at your arms! Look at what he's done to you."

I don't look. I push my sleeves back down. "Rachel I said he didn't mean it and he didn't. Please don't make this worse than it is. I told you I'm not seeing him anymore. He made a mistake and he's apologised. Actually, he hasn't stopped apologising, but it's over."

"How did it happen?"

I lower my eyes, too embarrassed to admit the truth. "He just got a bit carried away."

"Carried away? What … you mean … in the bedroom?"

I nod.

Rachel gulps, her eyes pleading with me to talk to her. "Donna please, you can tell me."

I rest my head in my hands as I wonder if I should just come clean. "I'm … I'm ashamed, Rach."

I feel Rachel move her chair closer and she places her arm around me, gently rubbing my back. "I need to know what happened. I need you to tell me because I want to help you."

"I never loved him Rach. I thought I could. I thought if I kept trying I could learn to love him. He's a nice guy, really he is, but I didn't ever love him. I just went through the motions every time I saw him. We'd go out, we'd kiss and we'd have sex. I thought if I kept doing what I was supposed to with him … if I acted like a girlfriend should … then I would change, but I didn't change. That means I used him. It's all my fault."

"You don't meant that, Donna. Never say it is your fault. Nothing gives him the right to hurt you."

"Oh I know that. I'm not making excuses, but he honestly didn't mean to do it. We were in my bedroom. He was being rough and then the next thing I know, he's tying my arms to the bed. I couldn't get free and I … shit … shit, I panicked … I …"

I curse myself as I break down. Somehow, saying it all out loud makes it seem worse. My boyfriend hurt me. Someone I trusted hurt me. I'd been taking some of the blame for what happened, but really it was all down to him and for the first time I feel angry – and believe me, anger feels far worse than guilt.

"Did you tell him to stop?"

"Yes, of course I did. Gently at first, but he took no notice. I had to tell him five times, Rach. Five times. When he eventually untied me I couldn't feel my fingers and well, most of the bruises are down to me trying to get free."

"Oh, Donna, I'm so sorry."

I allow Rachel to hug me and I cry into her hair. The scent of her apple shampoo is soothing. "It's okay. I made him leave. He's gone. It's over."

"Donna I can't believe this. I should have noticed you were unhappy with Mitchell. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to bother you."

"You should have told me. Promise me you'll never keep something like this from me again."

I feel Rachel release me from the hug and I fight the urge to crawl back into her arms again. "It only happened last night."

"Being with someone you don't love didn't just happen last night. And would you have told me about last night if I hadn't noticed your poor neck?"

I shake my head. "Is it really noticeable? I don't want anybody else finding out."

"I'm not going to lie, Donna. If anybody stands to your right side they're going to see."

"Shit. What am I going to do?" I look at my watch, "do you think I should go home and get a sweater?"

"No because a turtle-neck in the middle of July would draw even more attention. Maybe you should take the day off."

"I can't. Harvey has three big deals. Shit …"

"What is it?"

"Shit, I have so much to do and I should have cancelled his 8.00am meeting with Hauptmann five minutes ago." The chair scrapes along the floor as I stand. "Crap and hell."

Rachel stands too. "Maybe you should tell Harvey."

"No way. Ah-ha. No chance."

"Well, okay, but he might find out."

"That's the chance I'm going to have to take. I'll just keep him to my left side." Rachel looks sad again as I start to leave the room. "Hey, don't worry. I told you, I've learned my lesson, I'm fine."

"You wanna get lunch today?"

"Sure, that would be great. 12.30?"

"Yeah. We'll go wherever you like. It's on me."

"Oooh _free_ lunch, even better." I give her a reassuring smile as I leave.

I don't want her to worry. I don't want to give her something other than Mike to think about.

X X X

Apology flowers arrive for me at 10.00am. A huge bouquet of red roses and pink peonies. I don't want them and I feel sick as I sign for them.

"Shit, have I forgotten your birthday," says Harvey as he appears in the doorway on his way to a meeting.

"You always forget my birthday." It's true. He does. "But no, it isn't."

I catch something in his expression as he smiles back at me. Regret, maybe? Trying to look happy for me, maybe? He doesn't say anything else. He walks away to his meeting, carrying his strange smile with him.

I give the flowers to Gretchen.

X X X

I don't make it to lunch with Rachel. Harvey comes back early from his meeting with a mountain of paperwork for me to get through. He throws me a sandwich and a coffee he's picked up from the deli over the street. The inference is clear. 'Eat while you work'. I buckle down and start on the first contract.

Ten minutes later …

"Donna, what the hell!"

I'm part way through a credit survey when I hear him shout and my heart leaps. 'What have or haven't I done?'

He's at his door in seconds, his face red and his eyes steely. "You didn't rearrange Hauptmann this morning?" It wasn't so much a question as a statement, but he's right. After talking to Rachel, I totally forgot.

Shit. Fuck. Crap. "I … I'm sorry … I forgot … I …"

"Jesus Christ Donna, you've just lost us a five hundred grand deal!"

"I'm sorry, Harvey. I'll ring them … I'll …"

"Forget it. They've just signed with Bratton Gould. What the hell is the matter with you?"

I feel my body shake, but I take the heat because I have to. "I'm sorry Harvey, I just forgot."

"You just forgot? Are you shitting me? Well, let me know when you get your head out of your ass with fucking lover boy, so I can trust you to not screw any more of my goddamn deals up!"

"Lover boy?"

"Yeah, fucking lover boy with the flowers. Your mind isn't on the job. Do you need a day to go on a carriage ride around Central Park, because you're no goddamn good to me right now?"

"I'm sorry. It won't happen again." It's all I can say. He's angry and I know to just leave him when he's angry, but his words cut like a knife. I suck in a breath and will myself not to crumble.

He retreats back to his office, mumbling and slamming files around. I turn back to my survey. I can't see the words on the screen thanks to the water in my eyes, but I force myself not to blink the wetness away. If I blink, I'll cry and I don't want to cry.

"What's the matter?"

Shit. Louis. The last person I need to see right now. "Nothing, Louis its fine."

"No it isn't. Why is Harvey yelling at you? Do you want me to have a word with him?"

I don't look at Louis. I don't want him to see how upset I am. "No, it's fine Louis really. I can handle Harvey myself. It's my fault anyway. Harvey lost the Hauptmann deal because of me."

"But he's upset you. So what you made one mistake. It's his fault the firm is in the mess it's in and he has no right to take it out on you. He doesn't appreciate you, he never has."

"Louis!" My head snaps up as tears roll slowly down each of my cheeks. At first I think the look of horror on Louis's face is because of that. But then I remember. I realise he's standing to my right.

"Donna … what … what happened?"

I stand up so quickly that I nearly tumble over on my heels. "Just leave it, Louis," I say as I practically run to the ladies' room for refuge, willing Louis not to follow me.

X X X

I'm huddled over the sink in the bathroom for less than two minutes when Harvey storms in, walks straight to the stalls and bangs the doors open to check that we're alone.

I keep staring into the mirror, but I hear him behind me. The silence is deafening and I swear I can hear his heart beating in his chest. "Donna, look at me."

I don't respond. I grip the sink and will him away, but I already know it's too late. Rachel knows. Louis knows. Soon everyone will know what an idiot I've been.

I feel him grip my shoulders and turn me around. I don't resist but I keep my head low. I'm terrified of looking into his eyes. I'm terrified of what I'll see hidden there.

"Donna." I hear his voice break as he says my name, his hands moving the collar of my dress as he looks at my neck. I know it looks bad. I know there are three angry bite marks clustered at my neckline and that they are red and purple and ugly. I brush his hand away and pull at the fabric of my dress, recovering my neck.

"Donna, look at me." Slowly I raise my eyes and see the pain in Harvey's face. His skin is dark and his eyes are lit with a fury so powerful I can taste it's bitterness in my throat. "Tell me what happened?"

I don't respond, but my tears fall. I sniff the wetness away and I watch as he gulps in response, running his hand through his hair. "I'll kill him. I'm going to kill him."

"No you won't Harvey," I say as I wipe the tears from my face. "It's all over and it won't happen again."

"Was it that Mitchell guy? Your boyfriend?"

I nod and wipe at my face again. I sense the heat circling him like a wild cyclone and I watch him clench his jaw and ball his hands into fists.

"He sent you flowers after he did this? What the hell else did he do?"

"It was a misunderstanding."

Harvey swallowed audibly and turned his head to one side. "A what?"

I sighed. Rachel hadn't bought that, so why did I think Harvey would? "He got carried away and … I …" I find myself excusing him again, but I don't want to. I'm sick of excusing him. This was Mitchell's fault and I wonder why I'm not out there making him pay for it.

"Just tell me what happened, Donna. Please tell me."

My heart melts as I watch him struggling to combat the emotions that I knew were overpowering him. 'You don't keep things from me!' I get lost in the strength of his concern. I want him to hold me and make it alright. Can he make it alright? I push up my sleeves and show him my wrists.

He takes my hands in his and he can't speak. He looks from the dark bruises and painful scabs on my wrists, to my eyes, and back again. His face is flushed red and I can see a thin veil glossing over his eyes. He runs his thumb over my left wrist and I hear him catch his breath. "Oh, god …"

"He tied me. I couldn't get free. I tried … I was scared … I don't know why he did it …"

"Donna, listen very carefully to me. I want you to tell me his full name and I want you to give me his address."

I shake my head. No way is Harvey going to see Mitchell about this. Not when I've already dealt with it. Not when I know for sure that he'll beat the crap out of him.

Harvey's face changes as his despair morphs into determination. His voice swings into lawyer-mode. "Donna, this is serious. I need you to tell me where he lives." I can't remember when I last saw him this angry and the intensity in his voice is terrifying.

"Harvey, there's nothing more to say or do. It's over. We're finished. He didn't realise he was hurting me."

"He didn't what? Donna, are you freaking kidding me? A guy who does this to a woman knows he's hurting her. Jesus, he's bitten through your skin … and …"

I see that he's heartbroken, but I don't give in. "I don't need rescuing Harvey. This is my mess. I got myself into this and I've already gotten myself out. Mitchell is sorry and we're over."

His face relaxes and he exhales, but his flesh is still aflame, burning with his need to protect me.

"I need to get back to work," I say as I turn to the mirror once more, dabbing at my eyes.

"Donna, I'm going to find him."

"No Harvey. No, you're not." I raise my voice because I need to make sure Harvey knows that tracking down Mitchell isn't an option. "If you care for me at all then you have to drop this."

I walk away and leave him in the bathroom. But, as I close the door behind me, my phone buzzes. It's another text message.

" _Donna I need to see you again. I know you need time, but I can't stop thinking about you. I can't leave it like this. I swear I will never try that again. I just wanted you so much last night. I'm in love with you and I can't let you go. Please call me. M xx_ "

I delete the message and swallow the bile that has rushed into my throat back down into my stomach.

What do I have to do for him to get the message?


	5. Chapter 5 - Getting the Message

THIRTEEN YEARS

Chapter Five – Getting the Message

Mitchell's fifth text message of the day arrives at 2.45pm:

 _I need to see you. Can I see you tonight? I can't stop thinking about you. Please reply to me. I really don't deserve this. I've said I'm sorry. What more do I have to do?_ _M x_

I don't reply and I'm getting really fed up with these intrusions into my life. I have already sent a message telling him that we don't have a future. I've told him I don't want any more messages. I've said I can't trust him. I've thanked him and I've said goodbye. As far as I'm concerned that should be it. I hope he'll get the message if I don't respond.

I consider calling my friend Lindsay – Mitchell's ex-wife – but what the hell would I say to her? I don't even know if she knew we were dating. It would be an awkward conversation and I'm not sure it's one that I want to have. How would it even go? "Oh, hi Lindsey, I've been seeing your ex and I was wondering if he used to rope you to your bed during sex?" Yeah, wonderful convo!

*ping*

Are you freaking kidding me?

A sixth text message. 3.27pm.

 _I can't believe you're being like this. I said sorry. Why the hell are you still punishing me? How was I supposed to know you didn't enjoy sex that way unless I tried it? Why does it matter to you this much? I don't know why you're making such a big deal out of it. Please just talk to me! M x_

What the hell? So I'm the one being unreasonable here? I've tried to be kind and understanding, but there's only so much of this bullshit that I can take. Right now, if there was an imaginary line representing my patience, Mitchell Gray had not only crossed it – he'd stamped the goddamn shit out of it.

I pick up my cell and start tapping at the number pad. Then I delete. Then I try again. Then I delete again. I look at the words I'm choosing to write and I wonder if I'm sinking to his level. But at the same time, I need to nip this in the bud. Quickly.

 _Do not message me again. I don't want to see you. There's nothing more to say. Donna x_

My stomach rolls as I hit the send button. I want to be kind, but I know it's more important that I am firm.

Hours pass and I get on with my work, finishing two out of three of the contracts Harvey asked me to work on. I feel Harvey's eyes watching me from his office a number of times. He looks away on the couple of occasions I meet his gaze. I know he is concerned for me. I recall our conversation in the bathroom earlier. The way he looked at me. The way he cared about me. Even though it was an unpleasantly awful situation, I allow myself to focus on his reaction and what that meant. I know he loves me. And I know he loves me 'like that'. I know because he told me he loved me _**and**_ because he wouldn't tell me how. I know that won't make sense to you, but I'm Donna, I know people and I'm never wrong. It's the same timeworn daydream that I've indulged in for years. 'If only he had faith in himself enough to love me'. But he doesn't. And I know I can't wait around for him to find that strength anymore. I've tried and I'm just too tired of it.

*ping*

Dread. Nothing but fucking dread. I know it's him before I pick up my damned cell. What the hell now? Please let him be promising to leave me alone.

 _In all the years I've known you, not once did I ever think you could be such a fucking bitch. Good fucking riddance. I wish I hadn't wasted my time on you. Maybe try and pull your head out of your ass before you go looking for the next guy you can screw over. M x_

I raise my eyebrows as I read. Is he being serious? I don't care if he's genuine or just looking to hurt me as long as he stays the hell away from me. I could let him have it. I could tear him down and blast his weird bedroom activities to shreds right now. If we had it out, I know I would win. I am not conflict averse and I can give as good as I get with anyone never mind this douchebag. I don't give a shit what he thinks of me. I just want him to leave me the hell alone.

 _Go fuck yourself_

Just three words which disappear into oblivion as soon as I hit send. You know as much as I do that I shouldn't have sent that, right? I totally know I shouldn't have sent it, but I don't care because I'm pissed off. Mega pissed off. If pissed off was a name I'd be called freaking Pissedoff Paulsen right now. Who the hell does he think he is?

It's 6.00pm now. Harvey is still working in his office when I see Louis tiptoe up the hallway. I behave as normal – with Louis – which means I pretend he isn't there for as long as humanly possible.

"Hi Donna," he says as he sides up to my desk, peering over my cubicle.

His voice is different. He looks worried. I remember he knows. "I'm fine, Louis," I say quickly, hoping to allay his fears and halt yet another unwelcome conversation about last night.

"I … erm … I'm sorry for telling Harvey."

"It's fine, Louis."

"I mean … I was just pissed that he yelled at you when …"

I look up to meet his gaze. He's standing awkwardly, fiddling with a piece of plastic backing that's come loose at the edge of my cubicle wall. "When what Louis?"

"When … well I don't know what happened to you … but …" He takes me by surprise as his voice breaks. I don't know why that took me by surprise. Louis is the most emotional man I know. I will him not to take me on a Litt-style roller-coaster ride of turmoil, but it's already too late. His chin quivers as he opens his mouth to speak again. "I can't bear thinking about …"

I stand up and walk around my cubicle to where Louis is standing. "Louis, I'm fine. Seriously. You don't have to worry."

"But you're not. I know you're keeping something from me."

I sigh as I realise how much Louis cares about me too. These past few weeks I've gotten so used to being everyone else's emotional glue that I hadn't noticed how many people were actually there for me too. I hadn't realised because I rarely need the same level of support that they all do. I give Louis a hug, pulling his sweet face into my cheek and I feel his warm tears on my skin.

After a few moments I pull away again and look into his reddened eyes. "There's nothing to worry about Louis. I just got involved with someone I shouldn't have, that's all."

"Stay at my place tonight."

"Wh-what?"

"I don't want you to be alone. I'm worried about you."

"Louis, there's no need. It's over. It was just a case of this guy I've been seeing being into something I wasn't …"

My voice trails off as I see the horrified look on Louis's face. I don't know how else to describe what happened. 'Misunderstanding' doesn't cut it. I know he's piecing the jigsaw together.

"You mean …?"

Louis twists his face up in disgust. I think I know he's worked out this is to do with sex, but I'm not sure. I nod. "He didn't mean to hurt me and it's over. I don't want to go into details … but you don't need to worry. It's over."

Louis's face darkens almost to the same extent Harvey's had earlier. "I'll kill him."

Oh not again. "There's no need, Louis. I've already taken care of it." I hope I've taken care of it, but I wonder how my recent FU message will land.

"Okay. If you're sure."

"I am. Thank you Louis."

He gives me another hug and retreats to his office, his walk laboured with uncertainty.

X X X

I finish work around 8.00pm and I bring the files to Harvey before I leave.

"All done. I've sent Braxton a copy already because he emailed me with some urgency earlier and I think there's a mistake on the Dupline and Smithfield account because the employee numbers don't tally up with the earnings listed by their payroll department. It's too late to call, but I'll check that first thing tomorrow before sending it out."

Harvey nods his gratitude and takes the files from me. "Thanks, Donna," he says tentatively, his clenched jaw signalling that there is more he wants to say but that – yet again – he's struggling to find the right words.

I turn around to leave. "Donna …"

I spin back to see he's stood up and is walking around his desk to face me. "I'm sorry for yelling at you earlier."

I smile and cock my head to one side. I know he's sorry. "I screwed up. I deserved an ear-bashing."

"No you didn't. I had no right to speak to you like that and it wasn't your fault. None of this is your fault."

I'm confused. Is he talking about work or is he talking about Mitchell? "What do you mean, Harvey?"

"I mean I know you've been holding us all together these past few weeks. I know you never stop thinking about us … well, thinking about me. This place wouldn't still be going if it weren't for you."

Wow. Wasn't expecting that. I laugh a little and twist my mouth modestly. "Thanks Harvey, but I think it kinda would still be going without me."

"It wouldn't because if _**I**_ didn't have you _**I**_ couldn't do what I do."

I smile and I know I'm blushing. I watch as his eyes dart around the room. I know there's something more. "Will you be okay?" he says gently.

"I'm fine Harvey."

Silence. He opens his mouth, then thinks better of what he's about to say and stops. But then he continues: "You can stay at my place tonight if you want. I can sleep on the sofa?"

I start to giggle and I can immediately see that reaction manifest with a confused look on Harvey's face. "I'm sorry, it's just Louis has just asked me the exact same thing."

"Oh, well if Louis asked you first."

"I told him no. Really I'm fine, Harvey. You don't have to worry about me."

He shoots me that smile. My smile – you know the one I told you about? The one that belongs to me and only me? I feel my heart start to race, before I tell him goodnight and leave.

You know part of me wanted to go back to his place, don't you?

X X X

I wake up on my sofa not sure how long I've been asleep. It feels like hours, but I look at the clock and it's only 11.25pm. My legs are hot because they're covered with my woollen throw and the book I was reading is still spread upside down on my lap. I pick it up and my bookmark falls out. Don't you just hate it when that happens? I haven't got a clue where I was up to and the fact I must have read at least two chapters tonight whilst thinking about Mitchell and Harvey and how the hell I'm going to turn my life around means I'll probably have to reread it all anyway. I can't even remember if the single mom heroine screwed the distant and brooding newly single dad. Why do I read this shit? Every book I buy is about freaking unrequited romances! You'd think I'd have enough dealing with my real life ridiculous relationship! There must be some comfort knowing I'm not alone.

I think back to my plan. With Mitchell out of the picture now and the firm partly back on track there is nothing stopping me from leaving. Except him. I don't want to leave him and the thought of leaving him is ripping my heart to pieces.

I figure I should be heading off to bed when I hear a knock at my door. My stomach flips as I wonder who it could be. I tiptoe into the hallway as the knocking continues, steady yet persistent. I look through the peephole and I curse my luck. Mitchell. What the hell is he thinking? I message him to go fuck himself, so he shows up at my apartment at this time of night? What a douche!

The knocking gets louder and I start to worry about what my neighbours will think. I can't let him in. I can't open my door to him. I feel afraid and I don't know why I feel afraid because deep down I know he isn't a bad man. I think back to how kind he was when we first dated and I can't reconcile that with this person he is now.

"Donna, open the goddamn door."

His speech is slurred and I know he's been drinking. Shit, what is he thinking? What state is he in? I realise that he must have knocked more than a few back before he came here. If he wasn't drunk, would he have come to my home at all?

"Donna. I know you're there. Open the door."

The knocking gets louder and I place my head against my door, the dark wood keeping me safe and separated from a man I once trusted – a man I once considered kind. "Mitchell, leave now or I'll call the police."

"Not until you speak to me. Just open the damn door."

"I'm not opening the door Mitchell."

"Then I'm going to stay here all night."

I peep through the peephole again and I can't see him. I hear a swishing noise dragging down the full length of the door and when the knocking resumes at knee level I realise it's him. He's sitting on the floor outside. What the hell do I do?

I sigh as I know the only thing I can do. I pick up my cell and I call Harvey.

He answers in three rings, his voice filled with concern. "Donna, is everything ok?"

"Not exactly."

"What's that banging I can hear?"

"Erm … that's Mitchell at my door."

"What? What the hell is he doing?"

"Well at the moment he's just knocking, but I was wondering if you could come over and move him on for me?"

"I'll be right there. And whatever you do, don't open your door."

"Oh, I'm not opening it, you don't need to worry about that."

As soon as I end the call I worry if I've done the right thing. I don't trust Harvey not to knock Mitchell to the ground. Don't get me wrong – I'm not worried about Mitchell – I'm worried about Harvey landing himself in trouble. I move back to my door and sit down. The knocking is at the same level as my ear and I know if the door wasn't between us Mitchell and I would be sitting face to face.

"Mitchell, please go home. I've called Harvey. He's on his way over." I hear him laugh and it pisses me off.

"The great Harvey Specter is on his way, is he? Wow I am honoured."

"I wouldn't feel honoured if I were you Mitchell, because the way he feels about you right now, you'll be lucky if you still have all your teeth half an hour from now."

"What are you talking about? You mean you've told him about last night?"

"Yeah Mitchell. Everybody knows. They saw the state of my body, I had no choice."

Silence. A couple of minutes passed before the knocking started again. This time louder than before. "I want to talk to you Donna. I have to see you."

"I'm not opening the door Mitchell."

BANG BANG BANG

The door shuck as Mitchell slammed his body into it. I got to my feet and ran backwards, fearing he was going to come through the door, the wood buckling with every crash. I hear Mitchell shouting at somebody. Is it Harvey? I realise it can't be because it's only been ten minutes since I called him and it would take him at least twenty to get to my place. "Get inside and mind your own business." I realise he's yelling at my neighbours and I feel sick. There's an elderly couple opposite and a widowed Vietnamese guy next door. I hope they're not frightened.

BANG BANG BANG

"Open the fucking door, Donna. Just open the fucking door!"

 _ **CRASH**_

I fall back onto my sofa as he finally smashes through the door, the wooden doorframe splintering into daggers as he stumbles through it and falls to the floor, holding his arm. I shrink back, fear rising in the pit of my stomach as he rises to his feet. He holds his arms up, gesturing an apology, but he looks anything but remorseful. His face is red and angry and just like it was last night and I'm terrified. My insides are churning and my heart is beating so fast I fear it's going to implode. I will Harvey to appear in the doorway but I know there hasn't been enough time yet. I know I need to stall Mitchell. I know I need to calm him down somehow.

Mitchell comes towards me clutching his arm and I shrink back into the corner of the sofa. He sees I'm frightened and his face changes. He swallows hard as he pants for air. I guess he's not used to breaking down doors. "Why wouldn't you open the door?" he says, his voice loud and angry as his eyes narrow beneath a frown.

I can't speak. I try but no sounds come out of my mouth. It's as if someone has reached inside my throat and severed my vocal chords. My pulse is racing as I see Mr Nguyen from next door appear in the doorway. "I call police," he says in his broken English. Mitchell turns around and sneers at him. "Go to hell old man." Mr Nguyen retreats back to his apartment. I wish he wouldn't go.

Mitchell sits down on the sofa and turns to face me. His skin is flushed red with anger and drink and god knows what else. "Why wouldn't you talk to me? Why did you just cut me off?"

I clear my throat and try to talk again, but I'm trembling and the words croak out of my mouth. "You … hurt … me."

"You know I didn't mean that." He raises his voice and I shrink back into the sofa again. "What? Why are you acting like this?"

"Like what?" I croak again.

"Like I'm some kind of freaking maniac!"

"Mitchell, you've just broken my door down. After sending me seven text messages. After I told you to leave me alone."

"I told you I loved you. All I wanted to do was see you and talk."

"And I told you I didn't want to."

He balls his hand into a fist and punches the back of the sofa, "God-fucking-damn-it you are the most frustrating woman I've ever met!"

"Mitchell the last thing I texted you was to go fuck yourself. Did you not get that message?"

"Yeah, I did. That's why I'm here."

"What the hell? Seriously? Mitchell, you must have something dark going on in that brain of yours and if you want my honest answer, well here it is: You frighten me. I am not in love with you and I'm not even sure if I like you. You're not the person I thought you were, so please. Again. Leave. Just leave."

"I'm not leaving." His voice is cold as he sits next to me. He is locking and unlocking his fingers, tapping his foot and all his movements are jerky. I assumed he'd had too much to drink, but I'm now wondering if alcohol is the only thing he's consumed tonight.

"Fine. We'll just sit here until either Harvey or the police arrive." I shrug and roll my eyes. I didn't think he was this stupid, but as the minutes tick away I start to relax a bit more. Somebody would be here soon and I'm past worrying about Harvey beating the shit out of him – he can go for it with my blessing.

"You know, at the time I didn't mean it when I said you were a fucking bitch, but now I'm wondering. So you're saying you don't love me?" He turns towards me and my stomach sinks to my feet. "What were the last few months about if you didn't love me? You led me on. You let me think you loved me. You used me and I fucking hate that. I hate it!"

I swallow hard as I feel my heart beating in my ears. I did use him. I used him to take my mind off Harvey. "I tried to love you Mitchell. I tried with everything I had, but I'm sorry I just don't feel that … and I can't help how I feel."

He screams in my face. A guttural, rage-filled scream that echoes around my apartment and I feel like my heart is going to stop beating. Something deep within my soul tells me I need to get away. I stagger to my feet, but he's on me straight away. He grabs me by my hair, twisting it into a knot as he drags me towards the kitchen and throws me against the wall. I'm paralysed and I shut my eyes. I pray to whatever god is listening. Please make him stop.

"You did this! You did this to me! This is all your fault!" I can't make any sense out of the words he spits in my face and I'm not even sure I'm hearing him right. My mind is racing with ways to break free, with what he's going to do to me, but mostly I wonder where Harvey is.

He's holding me against the wall by my neck, his hand clamped tight around my throat until I gasp for air, but there's no air to take in. I feel my lungs burn as I struggle and blind panic surges through my body as he tightens his grip around my neck, his fingers digging tight into my skin, crushing my windpipe until there is no oxygen left in me and I feel my body weaken. I hit him and pull at his clothes with everything I have, but I have no strength left. All I can do is grab onto him and plead with my eyes for him to let go.

I can't breathe. He is suffocating me. I can feel my spirit – my life – floating away. I wonder if this is it? Is this how it all ends?

Then suddenly he's there.

He gets him off me straight away and I fall to the ground, panting for air. I try to stay on my hands and knees, but I can't. I collapse onto the floor, the carpet soft under my face and I can't see, or hear, or speak. Everything is a blur. The walls of my apartment look like they're melting and spinning and although the room is filled with noise, I can't hear anything. My ears can't focus on any recognisable sound, just as my eyes are seeing a world that is broken and unfamiliar. I lie face down and I fill my lungs, hanging onto every breath. Frightened that if I exhale there won't be anything left in me. I splutter as I learn to breathe again.

Vaguely I'm aware of other people in the room. More noise. Shouting. Clattering. I can see feet moving across my floor. I hear talking. Then there is somebody next to me. A woman's voice. I don't know who she is, but she's holding me and talking to me. I can't hear what she's saying. All I can think about is Harvey. I try to speak, but the woman stops me. "Sssh" she says as she places her hand on my arm, keeping me still. She's wearing navy blue. A uniform. I guess she's police and I try to talk again, but my throat feels like it's been torn from my body. I can't make a sound.

I hear the woman speak into a radio. She is talking clearly and I can make out some of her words as my brain starts to process what my ears are hearing. She's calling for help – an ambulance – and she's giving them my address. 'Harvey'. Oh my god where is he? What's happened to him?

I start to panic again and the police officer notices. "You're going to be okay, just try to stay still." She is doing her best to calm me down but she doesn't understand. She's just called for an ambulance and I need to know if he's okay. I concentrate all of my efforts on talking and I manage to rasp out his name. "Sssh, don't try to talk," says the officer. I blink in frustration and I try again. I manage to croak his name through my battered windpipe three times until eventually the penny drops.

"Is that guy's name Harvey?" she calls to someone I can't see.

"Yeah," I hear.

"She's asking for him."

"Just a sec."

"Don't worry, he's fine," verifies the police officer. Relief. Thank god he's okay. "Now listen, Donna is it? I need you to tell me where you are hurt."

"My neck. Just my n..." My words disappear again.

"Nowhere else?"

I see she is looking at my wrists and maybe she's seen the marks on my neck and chest. I tell her it's only my neck.

And then he's beside me. There are tears in his eyes, his lip is cut and there are red marks on his head and face, but he's fine. "Try not to move her," says the police officer as she stands to give Harvey room to come next to me.

He kneels close and covers one of my hands in his. "I'm … sorry … I wasn't quick enough … I …" I watch in astonishment as tears fall from his eyes. I've only seen him cry once – when his father died – and it is strange to see him like this. Harvey Specter doesn't cry.

I feel my heart breaking as I watch him struggle to control his tears. "I'm okay," I whisper in my fragmented voice. "I didn't let the bastard in. Fucking piece of shit. Did you seen what he did to my goddamn door?"

He laughs as he cries and I laugh too. "I got him. I got him for you," he says. "They've taken him away."

I wince as a sharp, dry pain shoots through my throat and I cough.

"Sssh, don't try to talk," he says as he sits next to me on the floor, slipping his arm under my head and pulling me into his arms. He is rocking and cradling me and I inhale his scent and I feel safe.

"I thought I was … I thought … I was going to die."

His arms tighten around me as I speak. He brushes my hair away from my face and he strokes my cheek. "If the police hadn't arrived when they did … I couldn't stop hitting him, Donna. I promised you I'd always keep you safe. I told you I'd never let you feel scared again and I let you down."

I grip his arm as he holds me. "This isn't your fault. This is his fault."

We stay locked together for a few more minutes and I realise that I don't want to move. Ever. I have already forgotten what Mitchell did. I don't care about that because this – wrapped up in Harvey's arms – is the end result.

The police officer appears next to us again. "Donna, this is Ian and this is Geraldo, they're paramedics. They need to check you over."

I shake my head. I don't want Harvey to let me go. "I'm fine. Can everyone just go please?"

Harvey holds me tighter, but he whispers into my ear, "let them look at you. I'll be right here. I'm not going anywhere."

I reluctantly agree and after much poking and prodding, Geraldo (or is it Ian?) suggests I should get looked over at a hospital just to make sure my throat is okay. I shake my head. Harvey protests, as does the lady police officer who I've learned is called Christina. I tell them that I'm okay and that I just want to stay with Harvey. They eventually give up.

Harvey makes a few phone calls to people he knows that will come over to secure my apartment and Christina asks us some preliminary questions before telling us we can go. She says we're to call in at the precinct first thing tomorrow morning to make a full statement. They'll charge Mitchell after seeing us. Harvey talks about an attempted murder charge and I feel sick. Was that what it was? Christina says they'll get him on assault, but Harvey is adamant he wants the higher charge.

We leave and I don't say anything during the cab ride to Harvey's place.

He's holding me tight in his arms again and I feel safe.

I hope he never lets go.


	6. Chapter 6 - Never Let You Go

**Thank you everyone who has reviewed, favorited and followed this story. As you probably know, I'm writing this in conjunction with another big multi-chapter – The Best Part of Me – so forgive me if the updates are a little slow.**

 **I'm enjoying writing this as it's given me the chance to write in first person POV and I think that works for Darvey. You may read my stories and think I have a plan. Confession time … I don't! I had no idea all of this was going to happen when I started writing and I originally planned a shorter character study. I guess that evolved into this because I've always believed that 'Donna in danger' scenarios are the best (if not only?) way to make Harvey come to his senses. I hope I'm right and he does come to his senses in this story. Yes, I know the power is all mine, ha!**

THIRTEEN YEARS

Chapter 6 – Never Let Me Go

X X X

 _Mitchell throws me onto the bed. I'm naked and I'm struggling to break free from his grip but his hold gets stronger and stronger and I can't move. I try to talk to him, but I can't speak. I try to scream, but no sounds leave my mouth._

 _I feel exposed. I feel terrified. I feel ashamed._

 _I want to hide away, cover my body, run from him._

 _His face is dark and his eyes are intense. "I'm going to make you pay for what you did to me! You're going to be sorry for using me. You're going to wish you had never met me." He is wearing black. A black sweater, black jeans … he has a rope and he ties my arms above my head._

 _I realise that my ankles are bound too and I can't move. He tightens the rope around my arms and I look up and see blood. Dark red blood seeping under the rope, running in rivers down my arms. My skin feels painfully cold as the warm blood flows down my body. Still I can't talk. I dig my feet down into the bed and my ankles are red too. I can't move my legs, I can't move anything._

 _Then he is on top of me, straddling me, his weight heavy on my chest. It feels like my lungs are collapsing as he bends over me, I can feel my heart pumping blood around my body, the pressure sticking in my throat and ringing in my ears. I still can't speak. I still can't move._

 _Then he puts his hands on my throat. I feel my airwaves constrict as his fingers cut into my skin, tightening around my neck, I try to scream._

 _I try to scream._

 _Then suddenly I'm screaming …_

X X X

I don't know where I am. I don't know how I got here. I have clothes on, I can move, my arms are free … and there's somebody next to me.

"Sssh it's okay," I think I hear. But I'm lost. I don't know who it is.

I'm in a bed and somebody is lying next to me … that feeling … that panic. Somebody is going to hurt me and I need to get away from him …

I'm on my feet and I'm moving but I don't know where I am or where I'm going.

I'm still screaming. I am hoarse and the pain in my throat feels like daggers stabbing at me … with every sound I make, I feel that pain cut so sharp that it burns, but I'm still screaming. I can't stop screaming …

Then I feel arms around me.

I strike out with everything I have. I punch. I kick. I hit. Over and over again, but their hold strengthens, the voice getting louder …

"Donna it's me. Donna you're safe. It's Harvey. _**You're safe**_."

Harvey?

A laboured croak escapes my throat, followed by a whimper. I don't know how I'm making that sound, but I can't stop. It's involuntary. It's as if my voice has disconnected from my brain and with every breath I take, I hear that same, strange whimper leave my body.

My eyes slowly adjust to the soft moonlight breaking into Harvey's apartment. My breathing is slowing down, my pulse is steadying, I feel his arms holding me from behind, I feel his breath at the back of my neck and I smell his scent. A deep and familiar musk washing over my senses. I exhale when I realise I'm safe.

We stand like that for a few minutes, his hold loosens, but he still keeps his arms around me protectively. He makes a shushing noise and his body sways like he is lulling a child back to sleep. I can't remember the last time I had a nightmare – probably not since I was a kid – and I know I've never had one as bad as this.

As I stand, lost in his embrace, I focus on the dull ache which is now pounding inside my head and I fight a wave of nausea that ripples through my stomach and up to my burning throat. I jolt in his arms, but he still holds me. I feel another wave hit and I break free of him with urgency, knowing I need to get to the bathroom, but being so disorientated I have no idea where the bathroom is …

I fall to my knees and I can't stop it coming. My body convulses and I place my hands over my mouth in an attempt to hold it inside. I try so hard, but I can't. I hunch over the floor and I vomit. I want to die. I feel ashamed as I hear the sound, the unmistakeable splash as my stomach contents hit the polished wooden floorboards. My insides contract with every heave of my body until eventually there's nothing left within me and I break.

An intense guttural sob escapes from somewhere deep inside of me and the release of tension becomes instant therapy as I allow myself to cry freely and unashamedly, as if I'm locked in my own world where nobody can see me. Suddenly nothing matters. I forget he's there beside me, even as I feel him gather me in his arms again, his hold soothing me and sheltering me from the darkness. My base physical responses override my brain's instructions to hold it together and I don't care that I'm shattering into pieces. I don't care that I'm already broken.

He holds me as I cry, stroking my hair, rubbing my arms, shushing softly into my ear and I slowly start to feel safe again. My cries get softer, the pain gets duller, but the throb in my head gets stronger as the bright moonlight streaming through the huge glass windows stings my swollen eyes.

"I'm sorry …" I say croakily as my voice rasps and rattles in my throat.

"You have nothing to be sorry about." His voice is shaky and I find it unsettling. He doesn't sound like 'my' Harvey. He sounds just as broken as I feel.

I look at the mess I've made on his floor and the cloying stench of vomit invades my already delicate senses. "I'm sorry about your floor," I say in a dull whisper.

"Sshh, it doesn't matter. It's just a floor. It will clean."

We're both sitting on his rug, his arms wrapped around me like a cage and I feel as fragile as a bird, but I feel safe. "I had a nightmare."

"I know. I have the bruises to show for it."

I turn to face him and scrutinise his face. I can make out a red mark just below his eye. I run my thumb over it, and I wish I could erase the terror that had made me do that to him. "I'm sorry," I say again and I swallow hard as a tear falls silently down my face.

"Hey, it doesn't matter, I've had worse. The only thing that matters is that you're okay."

"I'm not okay, Harvey."

"I know. But I'm going to make you okay."

I look into his eyes again and all I can see is sadness. "How?" I ask through more tears. "How are you going to make this okay?"

Harvey swallows and tenses his jaw. I know he doesn't know how. I don't know how. I sigh and I look away from him, but I feel him pulling me closer to his body, my head tucked under his chin and his arms enclosing me.

"I'll find a way. I'll find a way to fix it. I promised you and I failed. I hate myself for that. I should have made you come back here with me last night or I should have got to your place quicker. This is on me. I'm going to do everything … everything I can to make it up to you, but right now …" I feel him squeeze me tighter as he inhales sharply, his own voice trembling and breaking as he speaks. "… Right now I'm never going to let you go. Not ever."

He lets out a strange sound after he stops talking. It's a short, soft sound. Not quite a cry, but more than a whimper. It's a sound which is filled with pain, regret, anger and … dare I think it, love? I look up and see the glassiness of his eyes and the faint damp streaks glistening on both of his cheeks. The third time I've seen him cry. I put my hands to his face and he looks down, two sobs catching his breath in rapid succession. "It's not your fault," I say to him as he nods slowly and sniffs away the tears he's trying to conceal.

"I know, I just wish … I … I should have known yesterday. I should have made you …"

"Made me?" I say, forcing myself to smile. "Harvey, I'm Donna."

He doesn't smile back and he is still looking away from me. "Oh god … what … what if I hadn't got to you in time?"

I feel his chest break into desperate yet guarded sobs as I huddle back into him, feeling the need to protect him just as he is protecting me. "The police would have arrived. It would have …" then I stop. What was I doing? Why was I playing this game? "Harvey, we could go all night thinking about 'what if' this or that had happened. I'm fine and that's down to you. You saved me."

He shook his head. "No. No I didn't. I should have done more."

"Harvey, look at your hands."

I took hold of his left hand, tracing the cuts and bruises along his knuckles before locking his hand in mine and bringing it to my chest. "This proves you saved me and you did everything …" I exhaled as I noticed the distance in his face, his mind lost to me. "Look at me," I say and he slowly turns his head and looks down into my eyes. "You did everything you could do and you got him off me."

He tightens his hold around me again. "If anything had happened …"

"It didn't. I …" My breath catches in my throat as I blink away the images that assault my mind. Mitchell's words. The sound of his voice. Him pulling me by my hair. The look in his eyes as he strengthened his grip around my throat. I feel the rumbling thunder of panic rising again as my pulse quickens. "I thought I was going to die. I thought he was going to kill me."

I feel him place a kiss on my forehead, then keeping his cheek pressed to the top of my head he holds me even tighter. "I'll never forget what I saw, Donna. I can't believe what I walked in on. Never in a million years could I have imagined … I swear, if I ever get to lay my hands on him again … I don't know if I'll be able to stop myself. If the police hadn't pulled me off him I'd still be there now. I've never hated somebody so much … I've never wanted to kill somebody before and I'm scared of how much I want to hurt him. I still want to hurt him …"

I shift in his arms and move to sit on my knees. I take both of his hands in mine and sigh as I watch him struggle with his emotions. I have no doubt that Harvey would have kept hitting him and I feel relieved the police arrived when they did. "Thank you Harvey." He looked uncomfortable again, so I cupped his face in my hands and said it again, this time with deeper sincerity. "Thank you. I mean that."

I could see a very faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, or did I? Almost as soon as I saw that vaguest hint of resolve surface, it vanished from his face in a haze and the frown returned. "We should get back to bed."

I realise then that we were sharing his bed before I had my nightmare, but I can't remember anything about how I got there. Everything from leaving my apartment to waking up screaming is a blur. Under any other circumstance sharing Harvey's bed with him would be weird, but tonight, the safety of his arms was what I craved and I don't want to be apart from him.

He guides me to his sleeping area and helps me back into his bed, pulling the covers over me and kissing me softly on my cheek. His kisses feel good and I close my eyes and wait for him to climb into bed next to me. "I'm … erm … just going to clean up next door," he says as he walks back to the doorway leading to the lounge.

I panic at the thought of him leaving me, even if he's only going into the next room. I sit upright and I feel so stupid for how I feel, but I can't help myself. "Can you leave the light on? Just until you come back to bed."

His face is etched with sympathy as he nods and flicks the switch. "I'll be as quick as I can."

X X X

Ten minutes feel like hours as I lie in Harvey's bed trying my best to relax. I know I need to sleep but I can't. Every time I close my eyes Mitchell is there. Every time there's silence I can hear his voice. Every time I allow the tiredness to creep over my bones the pain in my throat and the sore bruises which still inflame my wrists remind me of what had happened to me.

I think of my parents and how they'd react if they knew about last night, then … more panic … will there be a trial? Will it be in newspapers? Will I have to tell all my friends? Mitchell is well known in the theatre-world – will this mean I'll never get a shot at a play again? Even in community theatre?

I think of the firm and how hard we've fought to get back on track. Harvey will need to get back to work tomorrow, so where will I go? What will I do? I can't go back to my apartment … I …

… and then he's back, the artificial amber glow in the room is replaced by the dimmer, whiter light of the cityscape outside as he flicks the switch on his bedroom wall. I notice the light outside is changing then. There is some yellow on the horizon meaning the sun is slowly coming up. I wonder what the time is. I wonder how long I've got to try to sleep, but I know I don't want to sleep. I'm afraid of what's waiting for me when I do. I'm afraid of what my subconscious will throw at me.

As he eases himself into bed I feel his arm snake protectively around my stomach. "Try to sleep," he whispers gently.

"What's going to happen tomorrow?"

"Don't think about tomorrow. We'll deal with it when it comes and we'll face it together. I'll take you down to the precinct and I'll stay with you as long as you want me to."

"I wasn't talking about the police. I mean with work."

"Work will be fine, don't worry."

"But I need to check the Dupline and Smithfield paperwork first thing. They needed it completed before 8.00am."

I hear Harvey sigh. "I'll call Rachel first thing. Don't worry about it."

"I think she's in school tomorrow …"

"Donna!"

I stopped talking and turned over, coughing a little as my throat adjusted to the different position of my head on the stack of cotton pillows. I felt Harvey's arm loosen from around me and I immediately missed his warmth, so I reached behind me and pulled him closer into me, my back was now pressing into him, his legs fit together with my legs, his chin rested on the top of my head.

The scent of him, the scent on his pillows and the musky yet clean smell of his apartment soothed me as I lay snuggled in his arms and I started to drift into sleep.

X X X

He wasn't there when I woke up.

I turned over in bed, my throat feeling like it was sealed shut because it was so dry and my head still pounding. I wanted to call out for him but it hurt too much to try to speak so instead I got out of bed, my body hot and my camisole damp at the back from where we'd slept so closely to one another.

I missed his touch already. Touching was one thing we consciously forced ourselves never to do. Not since the 'Other Time'. It was as if neither of us trusted ourselves, so it became an unwritten rule that we didn't do it. Over the years I replaced his touch with other things he did that made me feel as if he were holding me. The look in his eyes, the tone of his voice, the smile he gave me that was 'my smile' – you know, the one I keep telling you about? The one that belongs only to me?

So, yeah, we held each other without touching, but I don't want to only be held by him in that way anymore. Last night he held me properly and I don't want him to stop. Even when this is all behind us, I don't want him to stop holding me like that. I don't want to go back.

I hear his voice as I walk into the living area. He's standing in the kitchen, preparing breakfast and talking on his phone. His tone is hushed and serious …

"… _I don't know how long I'm going to be away, I just need you to handle this for me without telling anybody for now … Yeah, even Jessica. Just cover for us … Yeah, sure you can come over and see her later … Yeah … I know, Rachel, but look I can't go into details now. Just please don't worry and try to keep it to yourself … Yes, you're right, priority is to keep Louis in the dark about this. The last thing we need right now is Louis plunging off the deep end … I don't know … Uh-hmm … Okay, thanks Rachel. I'll call you later on today with an update_."

He turns around and sees me, offering me a smile. Not quite 'my smile', but a smile nonetheless.

"Hey," I managed to croak through my sore throat.

"Hey. I was leaving you to sleep."

"I figured."

"Do you want breakfast? I have pastries, cereal … uhm … not much else …"

"Coffee would be good."

He made a short laugh and winked in my direction. "Of course, coffee it is. Skimmed milk with cream and sugar?"

"You know me so well."

I climb up on the breakfast bar stool as he prepares the coffee, whilst munching on a buttered croissant. Who knew Harvey could multi-task? He'd already dressed in beige slacks and a dark sweater. What could I tell from his clothes choice? Casual. Relaxed. He was trying to conceal his anxiety by dressing as if he had everything under control. I'd have been less worried if he'd put on a suit. A Harvey dressed in the armour of Tom Ford is a Harvey getting ready for battle. Casual beige slacks Harvey is a Harvey who is already feeling defeated.

"So Rachel knows?"

He spins around and frowns. "I didn't tell her what happened, just that it was serious and we had things to take care of today. I didn't tell her about the police."

"You should have told her. She'll worry."

"I didn't know if you'd want me to. She's going to cover for us … just until you're up to people knowing."

I instantly feel exposed and I nervously start rubbing at my hurt neck.

Harvey notices and places his hand on mine. "It'll be okay. We'll play this out exactly how you want to play it. Just let me know."

I nod and he smiles again. Almost my smile, but still not quite.

"What will I have to do?"

"At the precinct?"

I nod.

"Give a statement. Tell them everything that happened. They'll speak to me too and your neighbours. They'll formulate a case and they'll charge him."

"With what?"

Harvey freezes, unable to say the words. "I'm hoping they'll get him on attempted … murder …"

"Do you think that's what it was?" I wasn't so sure. It didn't seem as bad as murder. I was here, with Harvey and I was safe. I was hurt, but a sore throat isn't exactly a gunshot wound.

Harvey pours the coffee into two white mugs, adding sugar to mine only and then he gets the cream from the refrigerator. "I think it was attempted murder, yes, and if they try to pass it off as attempted manslaughter or play it down to some sort of bullshit assault charge, then I'll visit the DA myself and damn well make sure he's charged properly."

I didn't now anywhere near as much about the law as Harvey, but the thought of this being attempted murder made me shudder to my bones. My second time with a murderer, but at least Stephen Huntley was responsible for the deaths of other people and he hadn't tried to kill me. Mitchell had held me to a wall by my neck and he had squeezed my neck until I almost passed out. If Harvey hadn't arrived, would he have continued until I'd suffocated and died? I didn't know the answer and I was convinced nobody else knew the answer, including Mitchell.

He came and sat next to me at the breakfast bar and we both drank our coffee. "Sure I can't get you anything to eat?"

I shook my head. "Not after vomiting last night. My stomach is still in knots."

"Stan who came to fix your door last night has just texted to say all's well there. He's got something else to do this afternoon to make sure the place is 100% secure, but by tonight it'll be okay for you to go back."

What, already? He wants me to go back already? "I see." It's all I say and I know I'm unable to hide the disappointment in my voice. Did he want me to go back? I scrutinised his face and he looked confused.

"I'll take you back there if you need to get anything."

Ah, that's what he meant. "I think I picked up everything I need for a few days last night. Thank you, though, Harvey."

He finished his drink and stood up, kissing me on the top of the head again. "I want you to stay with me as long as you want to and even then … I …" his voice trailed off and I could see his mind working away, wondering if he should continue or not. It was like a whistle going off … a warning … a red flag … Harvey Specter was about to sync his emotions with some words.

"Even then?" I repeat, trying to help him out but knowing he was more likely to clam up and push whatever he was about to say to the back of his mind where he'd forget about it and it'd stay locked in isolation forever.

"Even then, I might not let you go."

He walked away from me taking his plate and cup to the sink, leaving me stunned. Did I just hear that right?

He must have realised he'd dropped the equivalent of a Mark Two 'you know I love you, Donna,' bomb. He turned around, locked onto my eyes and I waited for the back-track. I prepared myself for an 'I said that because I wanted to make you feel better,' declaration. But his expression didn't falter. He didn't look awkward. Or embarrassed. He didn't even look away.

"I love you, Donna. You know I love you. I will never – _**never**_ – let you go again."


	7. Chapter 7 - Love Me How?

THIRTEEN YEARS

Chapter 7 – Love Me How

I showered and got dressed. I had only brought casual clothes with me from my apartment. I had been in such a hurry to leave, that I hadn't had time to think carefully about what I would need, so I'd only bundled a couple of pairs of jeans, some soft jersey pants and a few tops in my bag. I'm now wondering if I needed to bring office wear because I'd rather spend a day at work than have to go back to my apartment. I don't want to go back there. I can't.

Of course, you know what I was thinking about while I was getting dressed, don't you? In case you missed it … here it comes again … rattling around in my brain like a freaking fire engine siren …

" _I love you Donna. You know I love you. I will never, never, let you go again_."

It is the last thing I needed to hear right now, but at the same time the absolute best. Do you understand what I mean by that? Those words filled me with dread because I know I'm right back in position to have my heart broken all over again. It's like I'm walking with a target pinned to my chest and there's a quiver full of arrows strapped to my back ready for him to fire at me.

When this happened the last time I swore I'd never let it happen again. I've had my heart broken more than once by Harvey Specter and I kid you not – I'm more than 100% sure that he hasn't a fucking clue how often he's done it. I've told you who he is. He occupies his own space in a universe where he believes he can have everything he chooses without stumping up the other half of the bill. He has the relationship he wants with me. He doesn't want to risk anything more in case he doesn't like what we become and he can't go back to what he had. I'm not fine with that anymore.

I dry my hair, curse the fact I didn't pack my straighteners and start with the make-up. I feel sick every time I look in the mirror and see the dark, ugly bruises on my neck. Every grape-like blemish a reminder of each finger and thumb Mitchell wrapped around my throat as he squeezed the life out of me. I shut my eyes as I try to push away the thoughts I know will be probably be lurking in my mind forever. I need to find a way to shut them out. As soon as an image flashes in my mind I need to find some kind of mental technique to zap it dead. I know how this starts and I know what happens next. One terrifying vision morphs into the next then the next then the next. My stomach groans as the memory of my windpipe constricting sweeps in and takes control. One part of my brain protests, but it's too late. Soon comes the other memories; the red hot panic rising, the heat ringing in my ears, the pressure of my blood boiling in my veins, the fear that the last thing I might ever see in my life is Mitchell's hate-filled face. I fight the tears and will myself to continue getting ready, but my hands are shaking so much I can't get the mascara on without brushing black spider legs down my cheeks.

This really happened, didn't it?

Then, just as I'm free from those memories, different ones take their place. The feeling of Harvey holding me safe in his arms. Talking to me. Crying over what had happened with me. Promising to never let me go …

Did I get what I've always wanted in those moments with him last night? Did I stick by him for thirteen years to get to here? This man has frustrated me to absolute hell and back because of his refusal to deal with his feelings, but I've seen him cry twice in the last 24 hours and that in itself is a breakthrough. My best friend. The one person who knows me better than anyone else. The one who I know will always fight to protect me. The one who saved my life …

So if his disclosure and promise is everything and more that I want, why do I feel like my heart is already well on its way to getting torn to pieces?

I don't know if I can articulate the way I'm feeling for you because I'm not even sure I understand myself. It's like my heart knows the score, but my brain hasn't been let in on the blueprint. What do you think he's doing right now? Is he in the room next door figuring out how he's going to declare his true feeling for me or is he in there figuring out how he's going to get himself out of what he's just said? My money's on the latter. Oh ye of little faith, right? Wrong! I have more faith in Harvey Specter than he has ever had in himself, but I'm also a realist. It took me almost going to jail to make him tell me he loved me the first time. It took a man half-killing me to make him tell me he loved me the second time. What about the third time? Somehow, I don't think it's going to come after a trip to the cinema or a dinner date at El Posto. Far more likely to be on his deathbed when we're both eighty years old, we're both still single and we realise we could have had everything but ended up with nothing.

No, the truth is this: If Harvey Specter wanted to have a relationship with me, then he'd have told me months ago. He doesn't have that kind of love for me. The love he has for me hasn't made him fight for me in the way I want him to. Sure he loves me enough to beat a man half to death to save me and don't get me wrong – I know he loves me 'in that way' – but there are varying degrees of 'that way', aren't there? He loves me enough to protect me. He loves me enough to depend upon me and trust me. But he doesn't have the kind of mad-crazy 'if I'm not with this woman for the rest of my life then I'd rather die' kind of love for me. I'm sure he doesn't feel that and that's the love I want from him. And that's why it hurts so goddamn much.

All done and ready to go, but my heart sinks to my feet when I think about how I'm going to face him. I stare at myself in the mirror, willing my own stupid reflection to get its ass next door and act normal. I need to forget about what he said and I just need to concentrate on getting through the damned day.

I take a deep breath. I remind myself I'm Donna. And … off I go …

X X X

"You ready to go?"

It looks like he's been pacing the floor the whole time I was getting dressed as I walk into the living area. He isn't taking in the morning air from his balcony, he isn't reading the newspaper, he isn't on the phone apologising to clients or reassuring Jessica he'll be in the office as soon as he can. His face is unreadable and my pulse starts to race as I wonder what's going through his mind.

"As ready as I'll ever be," I say and he gives me a wink and 'my smile'. Yes, that one was absolutely, definitely ' _ **my**_ ' smile.

"Let's go then."

Ray is waiting for us downstairs and he drives us straight to the 17th precinct. We barely talk in the car. There's an awkward silence filled with occasional small talk about the weather, work, a strangely dressed tourist walking the sidewalk as we drive by and the fact that one of our favourite take-outs – Luigi's – is closed for refurbishment. Not really what I expected on the journey to the police station, but I guess Harvey doesn't really want to talk about anything else in earshot of Ray.

When we enter the police station I wonder if Mitchell's here too. Would they ask us to report to the same police station they're holding him at? Would it even matter as it's not likely I'll bump into him given he'd be behind bars? Or is he in hospital? I figure, Harvey beat him up pretty bad from what he said. I realise then that nobody told us where they'd be taking Mitchell to and that neither of us had asked.

We report to the front desk and are told to take a seat. I hate it in here. It smells of dust, grime and hopelessness.

"Miss Paulsen?"

We both stand and acknowledge the police officer from last night. She looks different this morning, more cheerful and younger than I remember. Her dark brown hair is pleated into a smart bun and I notice how light her eyes are – like sparkling turquoise gemstones.

"Hi, Christina Hayes. Thank you for coming in so promptly, how have you been since last night?"

I smile and tell her I'm fine. I know she can tell I'm not.

"Mr Specter, my colleague Officer Diaz, will be with you in a moment to take your statement separately. Can you wait here?"

Harvey nods and sits back down in his seat. He doesn't say anything to me as I leave, which makes me wonder what the hell's going on in his head even more than the awkward car ride did.

X X X

The meeting room is larger and more inviting than it'd imagined. There's a table and chairs, a sofa, a half-dead floor plant and a coffee table with an unnerving box of tissues sat in the centre. I wonder how often they have to replace the box. I wonder how many women – per week – sit in this room and cry over what a man has done to them. I decide I'm going to try not to cry and I take a seat at the small table opposite Christina, who immediately sets out an array of forms and a notepad.

"Okay, Donna. I know this is going to be very difficult but I'm going to have to run you through the events of last night, including anything important which happened prior."

"Where is he?"

"Where's who?"

"Mitchell."

"Mr Gray was taken to hospital last night, but he's due to be released shortly and when that happens, he'll come straight here to be interviewed and charged."

Hospital? Shit, what the hell did Harvey do? "Will Harvey … erm … be in trouble?"

"I'm afraid I can't say at this stage as we don't have statements from either of you yet, but I suspect not." A flash of sympathy sparks in her light blue eyes as she pours me a drink a water. "I don't want you to worry about that for now. Are you ready to begin?"

She starts by taking down some basic details before asking about my relationship with Mitchell. I drink all the water. The cool wetness soothes my throat.

"How long have you known Mr Gray?"

"Over ten years. I was friends with his ex-wife when they were together. He works in theatre and I act in my spare time, so that's how I got to know him. We'd only been dating for a few months."

"Do you know how long he's been separated from his wife?"

"Just a year or two."

"And your relationship was serious?"

"Not in my opinion."

"In his then?"

I nod. This, obviously being the difference of opinion which lit the powder keg that erupted into the hellish nightmare of last night.

"Would you say you had a full sexual relationship with Mr Gray?"

Urgh! What a question. "Yes, but …" I try to formulate my thoughts. But what? Should I tell her about the 'mercy' fucks? Is that even relevant? "… we recently had an issue in that area."

"How recently?"

"The night before last. I hadn't seen him for a few weeks. We'd date when he was in town. He worked away a lot with his theatre group and I've been working sixteen hour days at the law firm. We've never really spent that much time together."

Christina scribbles on her notepad and I wait for her to finish. When she's done, she looks up and smiles, her eyes still twinkling as the corners crease. I decide I like her.

"So what happened the night before last?"

I take in a breath so deep that I almost feel lightheaded. Christina notices and bends over, placing her hand on mine. "Take your time," she says gently, giving my hand a squeeze.

It feels strange to be the comforted as opposed to the comforter. I sense that Christina and I have a shared purpose in life. I wonder if she's the emotional glue of the 17th precinct. "Mitchell and I went out for a meal and he came back to my place. We ended up … uhm … sleeping together but he was strange from the offset. He was more rough and forceful. He hurt me … uhm … he was biting and I just generally didn't feel comfortable. I tried to just let him get on with it. Quickly."

"Did you want to have sex with him?"

I realise what she's asking and I don't know how to answer. 'Yes and no'? Would that swing it? "I didn't tell him I didn't want to." She doesn't look confused. I think she gets it.

"So, how did that end?"

"Not well. He … uhm … tried something I wasn't happy about." Now she looks confused. I pull up the sleeves of my top and show her my wrists. "He tied me up. Too tightly. And it hurt."

"I can see that. Was it just your arms?"

"Yes and he did it before I realised what he was doing. I told him to stop."

Christina's tone of voice suddenly becomes more serious. "And did he stop, Donna?"

"Uhm, yeah. Yes, he untied me, but I had to ask him five times. I was scared and angry and afterwards I told him to leave."

"How was he afterwards?"

"He looked really shocked and upset with himself. He apologised and I believed that he was sorry. He was sorry. He asked if he could call me and I should have told him there and then that we were over. I knew we were over, but I told him I'd call him when I was ready. I don't know why I said that. I wish is hadn't."

Christina scribbled more into her notepad. "Did you hear from him during the day yesterday?"

"Yes, he sent me several text messages – some of them aggressive – and flowers arrived at my office." I pick up my bag and find my cell phone, scrolling through my message list and then handing it over. Christina reads through and asks if she can forward the message onto the police database to keep as evidence. She disappears with my cell for a few minutes. I stare at the box of tissues and congratulate myself for not needing them yet. I feel like I'm winning but I know to hold off on the lap of honour.

The door opens as I'm lost in thought, revealing Christina who hands my cell back to me, telling me she has a record of the messages, but also asking me not to delete them. She sits back down and continues writing in her notepad. "So, the next you heard from him was when he showed up at your apartment?"

"Yes. I had a feeling it would be him when I heard the first knock. I ignored him at first but then he was banging so loudly at the door and demanding I opened it. I called back at him that I wasn't going to and then I called Harvey."

"And Harvey Specter is your boss?"

"Yes and my friend. We've known each other for almost thirteen years. He knew what had happened with Mitchell the night before and I trust him with my life. He told me not to open my door and that he'd come straight over."

Christina looks up from her writing. "You are very lucky to have him."

I nod my head in agreement and for the first time I can feel tears filling my eyes. I concentrate hard and force them to stay put.

"What happened next?"

"Mitchell kept banging, I told him Harvey was on his way. Uhm … I could hear him talking to my neighbours, telling them to get back inside their apartments. Then, he was slamming against the door. I could see the doorframe buckling, but I didn't expect him to come through it. I didn't think he was that strong, but …" I feel my voice starting to shake as I think back to last night and how I felt when the door – my only defence – crashed open. I stare at the box of tissues and before I know it, Christina has reached over to the coffee table and passed the box to me. I have failed. I'm going to crumble again and I hate myself for it. I hate feeling like this.

"Mr Nguyen, your neighbour, has already given us a full report. He did well to call the police."

"Yeah, I need to thank him. I was worried about him."

"He's fine. He's a tough old guy and he cares about you."

I smile as I recall how long I've known Mr Nguyen. It must be close to fifteen years now. He only lost his wife a couple of years ago. They were inseparable and I worried for him when she passed. I can't even begin to imagine what it is to lose someone with whom you share that kind of love. The kind of love I was talking about earlier. The kind I've never had.

"Now, I need you to try to think back to when Mitchell broke your door down. What frame of mind do you think he was in?"

"I know he'd been drinking. His words were slurred, his eyes … distant … strange. I thought maybe he'd taken drugs too. He just sat next to me on my sofa and I tried to keep him talking. I needed to calm him down because I knew Harvey needed at least ten minutes more to get here. I reckoned the police needed the same, so I did my best to just talk to him."

"What did you talk about?"

"My feelings about him. He said he was in love with me and he thought I felt the same way about him. He asked me what the past few months had been about if I didn't have feelings for him. I felt a bit guilty, you know? Then, I told him I had thought I could love him and that I had tried … but … I didn't. And that's when he lost it …"

"What did he do?"

"He screamed. It really terrified me because it came from nowhere. He just turned to me and he screamed in my face. I remember thinking I had to get out of there … get away from him … I stood up and tried to get to my bathroom because I have a lock on the door, but he grabbed me. He pulled me against the wall by my hair and then his hand were around my neck … and …"

Before I know what's happening a tissue appears in my hand and I bring it straight to my eyes. I cry, but I try to stop myself and all I can hear is strange breaths and snorts leaving my mouth. I feel Christina's hand on my arm, gently rubbing and I tell her I'm sorry.

"There's nothing to be sorry about. You need to let it out."

"I've been letting it out for hours. I haven't stopped letting it out."

"That's to be expected and it's good you can cry. So many people try to bottle up their feelings and push them aside because they think that's the best way to deal with traumas."

Yeah, tell me about it! I've lived with the king of doing that for over a decade.

"There's just one more thing I have to ask, Donna. Do you believe Mitchell set out to try and kill you last night?"

I can hear Harvey's voice in my brain willing me to tell her 'yes'. But I have to be honest. If I'm not honest, I can't live with myself. "I don't think he showed up intending to kill me, but I thought he was going to kill me … I … uhm … yes, I thought his face was going to be the last thing I ever saw and if Harvey hadn't got to me when he did … I think …" I sniffed into the tissue again, but didn't curse my weakness this time, and allowed myself to cry. "I couldn't breathe, I couldn't get away and my head … it felt like I was going to pass out and I knew if that happened I would die. He wouldn't have stopped, would he?"

Oh my fucking god! He wouldn't have stopped! It's as if I only just realise how close I came. I was going to die. I would have died. Why am I still making excuses for that son-of-a-bitch? "I thought I knew him. I thought he was kind and funny and gentle, but … he wouldn't have stopped. I don't think he intended it, but it would have happened all the same. He would have killed me."

Christina rises from her chair and she moves to a seat next to me. I feel her arm around my shoulders and she stays next to me while I cry. But this is new. I'm crying because I know how close I came to losing my life. And still all I can think about is Harvey. I close my eyes and I see his face. I see him crying. I realise this _**is**_ why he told me he loved me this morning. This has shook him to the core. He knows what he almost lost.

I don't stop crying, but my sobs become almost silent. "Okay, Donna. I think I have everything I need, why don't I check to see if they're finished with Harvey now? I'll send him in here to sit with you while I type up your case notes. I need you to sign before you go home and I also need to photograph all of your injuries. I know this is unpleasant, but I'm afraid we must."

I tell her I understand, I thank her and she leaves.

Moments later Harvey enters the room and comes to sit next to me. He notices I've been crying and he wraps his arms around me just like he did for the best part of last night. I smell his scent again and I feel safe.

"How did it go?" he says in a gentle whisper.

"It was fine. It wasn't fun, but it was fine. You?"

"Uhm, fine too I guess. I had to give my fingerprints and have my goddamn photo and vitals taken in case the DA wants to press charges."

"You're kidding?"

"Hey, don't worry, it's just routine. It's not like I need to find myself a lawyer. Yet."

He chuckles and I know he's trying to make light of the situation, but I'm furious. How could they even think of prosecuting him? "We need to stick around a while. Have you checked in at work? Has Rachel managed to do the Dupline and Smithfield contract?"

"Donna, I don't want you to think about work. Seriously. It's all in hand."

"I want to think about work … it's better than thinking about …"

"I know," he interrupted. "I know."

I pull out of his arms and discard the damp tissues. I study his face and I can still see traces of sadness in his eyes, his neck taught with stress. The second button of his grey ribbed polo top is half undone meaning he's losing control. He's fiddling with non-existent cufflinks under his sleeve which means he's trying to fix something he knows can't be fixed very easily – if at all.

And then I say something so fucking ridiculous I wish I could blast the words through the brick wall with an assault rifle. Make sure you're sitting down comfortably while I reveal this humdinger! The words are out of my mouth long before they can connect with my brain … "So why don't we talk about what you said to me this morning?"

Shit and hell, right? Why don't we have a bet? What are the odds on a back-track? What are the odds on a flat out denial?

I brace myself.

"I meant every word of what I said."

Jesus-fucking-Christ! I can feel my mouth fall open in surprise and I struggle to take it in … did he just …?

"I _**do**_ love you and I'm never letting you go."

"And you love me … how?"

"You know how."

He shifts awkwardly in his chair and I lose eye contact with him. Uhm not so good. Started well, but as expected I reckon I'm about to call in that bet. "Do you want me to stop talking about it?"

He looks to his feet. "No. I mean yes. I mean … now is probably not the best time." I can read his expression as if it was words spoke into the air. He's afraid.

And I don't know if I can deal with that again …

Christina comes back into the room and takes me away for the photographs. I'm relieved to have a reason to make a quick exit and I know by the way Harvey's posture relaxes that he is relieved too. I wish I hadn't brought it up.

I decide to leave it up to him to pick up this conversation again when he's ready.

I realise I could be waiting a very long time.


	8. Chapter 8 - The Wall

THIRTEEN YEARS

Chapter 8 – The Wall

I wake to the sound of knocking and it's as if I'm back there again in my apartment, Mitchell at the other side of my door. It only takes 30 seconds for me to realise I'm in Harvey's bedroom but the sinking feeling in my stomach stays with me for a while longer.

It's only mid-afternoon, but when we got back from the police station I went back to bed, trying my best to catch up on the hours of sleep I'd missed during the night. I cough the dryness out of my throat, wincing as stabbing pains shoot upwards and settle into a piercing burn which makes me grab hold of my ears. It reminds me of tonsillitis and it hurts like hell.

I hear voices in the living area and I tiptoe to the arched doorway.

"… _look Harvey, Rachel told me something is up with Donna and that that is the reason you left us high-and-dry today. I need to know if this is down to you and I don't want any of your usual bullshit."_

It's Jessica. She looks and sounds as pissed as hell.

" _What do you goddamn mean - 'down to me'?"_

" _I mean whenever something happens concerning Donna, you lose your shit over it and my firm ends up taking a battering. I told you I didn't want to know the last time, but this time … Harvey we're all on our knees. We need you. Personal shit with your secretary again? That's the last thing we goddamn need!"_

My heart sinks to my feet. Jessica was right. Everyone needed Harvey right now, not just me. I'd have to let him go. He needed to get back to work, for all of us. I stepped forward into the room and both of them turned to look at me.

"Just tell her," I say to Harvey. My voice breaks into a croaky whisper.

Harvey sighs and shakes his head. I can see Jessica look between us, her brilliant mind trying to work out what on earth has happened to make Harvey miss a day at work during the most crucial time in the firm's history.

Harvey looks up at me. "You sure?" I smile my agreement. I'm not going to be able to keep this secret from everyone indefinitely anyway.

Jessica's face contorts into a frown as she places her bag on the kitchen counter and walks around to Harvey's leather armchair. She sits down as elegantly as ever, but I can tell she is concerned. Her posture is protective and guarded.

"Has this something to do with my firm?" She speaks clearly, but I detect fear in her tone. She's wondering what the next hit is going to be and from which direction it's coming from. This is the way it's been for her since Mike went to prison and I feel guilty that I'm bringing something else to her door. I wish I could find a way to put this behind me … quickly … and for everybody's sakes.

Harvey moves to sit down on the sofa and guides my elbow to follow him. There's a moment of silence as all three of us look at each other. I know what they're both thinking and I can sense the air around us is thick with tension.

"It has nothing to do with the firm," begins Harvey. I watch as Jessica's posture relaxes. She uncrosses, then re-crosses her legs, bending forward slightly as she waits for him to continue. "There was some trouble last night."

I watch as Jessica's frown returns. She spots Harvey's bruised knuckles, the cuts now scabbed over into blackened raised bumps. "Harvey, what did you do? Please tell me you're not in any trouble."

Harvey shakes his head, "no, no, it's nothing like that."

"What happened to your fists if it's nothing like that?" Her tone is accusatory now. I wonder why she seems intent on blaming Harvey, but then I realise he has form for tipping her world on its ass. Jessica knows him almost as well as I do. I put myself in her place and the dread etched in her expression makes perfect sense.

I clear my throat and decide to help them both out. "I got into some trouble last night." My voice croaks as I speak and I can see Jessica's eyes narrow as she studies me. My hand instinctively moves to my neck and I can feel my skin burn with shame and unease. I wait for the pity.

"What happened?" Jessica asks again. Her voice is deep and rich and gentle and full of genuine concern. She looks between both of us again, she has noticed the marks on my neck. She has seen the grazes on my wrists. Harvey's head is bowed to the floor. I don't understand why he is finding it so difficult to talk, but I wish he would do it for me. If only because it still hurts whenever I speak.

I try again. "I got into trouble with a guy I've been dating ... uhm … Harvey saved me."

"I see." Jessica gulped as the situation registered in her face, softening the serious frown she had been wearing since she had entered Harvey's apartment. "This guy hurt you?" I nod my head and place my hand on Harvey's arm, making him finally raise his head. Jessica looks at Harvey and she knows it is bad. "Oh my god," she mutters under her breath. This was news she wasn't expecting.

"If I hadn't reached her when I did …" he pauses and inhales a steady breath of air as if that gave him all the courage he needed to continue. "… if I hadn't got there in time, he'd have killed her."

Jessica gasped in shock and she repeated, "oh my god." I watch as her beautiful face crumples, her eyes frozen in shock as she tries to process what we are telling her.

"It happened last night. She's staying here because he wrecked her apartment and … well because …" He didn't have to finish his sentence. Jessica nods her understanding. "We had to go to the police station first thing this morning to make a statement. They have him and they're charging him with attempted murder."

Jessica gasps again. "Attempted murder? I don't know what to say … are you okay? I mean … sorry that's stupid … but … is there anything I can do?"

"I wouldn't say I'm okay. Physically I just have a sore throat, crushed windpipe from … from where … uhm …" I trail off unable to speak the words as my eyes fill with tears. But I don't need to finish. The detail of what he did to me – the marks on my body – are there for all the world to see. "I'll be fine," I say and I force myself to smile.

"What a son-of-a-bitch," mutters Jessica under her breath. "How long do you need?"

"Uhm me? I don't know … I … I don't really want to sit around. I'd rather be at work actually."

"Donna, don't even think about going back to work yet," interrupts Harvey.

"But you have to go back. The firm needs you."

Jessica's frown returns and she shifts awkwardly in the armchair. I know what she's thinking. She's trying to balance her own needs – and those of the firm – with mine. "We'll work something out. You'll have to take as long as you need to get over this. Both of you."

"I'll be back in tomorrow," says Harvey.

My heart leaps. He'll be back in tomorrow? I knew he'd have to go back to the office soon, but tomorrow? The firm has been slowly recuperating over the past couple of weeks, but Harvey is a vital ingredient to that recovery continuing. Without him? Well without him everything will grind to a halt. I know he has to go, but my heart is screaming with how much I need him.

Jessica looks at me and I think she notices the panic rising in my chest. "I have an idea. We could draw up a rota. We can all spare a few hours per day to sit here with Donna, myself included."

"Oh, that won't be necessary," I say straight away, slightly alarmed at her suggestion. I can't bear the thought of being looked after as if I were a fragile kitten. "I'll go back tomorrow too."

"Donna." There must be a million ways of saying my name. This particular way of Harvey's comes with a barely disguised 'don't be so fucking ridiculous' attached to it.

"He's right, Donna you can't even think about work now. You need time to come to terms with this and you need rest. Since Mike went down, you've been there for us every step of the way, holding us all together, keeping _**him**_ from falling to pieces. Now it's our turn to be there for you. We can all take three hours each, starting from 7.00am tomorrow morning. Me, Harvey, Louis, Rachel and Gretchen. We'll work around our schedules and we'll bring work back here if things get tight. We'll do whatever it takes."

"You're not going to listen to me if I protest again, are you?"

"No, I'm not," says Jessica with a smile that lights up her deep, dark eyes.

"You won't have to do it for long."

"We'll do it for as long as we goddamn need to," she says. She looks at Harvey and he beams back appreciatively at her, then she stands to leave. "We'll start this tomorrow. I'm guessing Louis will want the first shift. I just hope I can stop him from coming over tonight."

"Just tell him we're out," says Harvey.

"That wouldn't stop him. He'd just walk the streets all night long looking for you both."

As funny as the commentary is, I don't feel like laughing. I know Louis is going to be heartbroken and I don't relish having to calm him down tomorrow. I'm not sure I'm up to it. Harvey tells Jessica that he'll see her out, she tells me to take care and then she leaves. They share a few words at the door.

"What did Jessica say?" I ask as Harvey walks back to me.

"Oh – you know – just work stuff," replies Harvey. I'm not sure I believe him. "Can I get you anything? Coffee? Or what about something to eat?"

"I'm not hungry." It's strange. I wasn't. I still didn't want to eat, but I'm not sure if my brain was presenting 'loss of appetite' as a symptom of trauma, or the pain in my throat.

"Donna, you haven't eaten since yesterday."

"I know, but I just can't, Harvey."

He cocks his head to one side and looks at me. All I see in his expression is sympathy. I wonder how long it will take before I grow tired of people looking at me in that way.

"Do you want to do something? Go out somewhere, maybe?"

I shake my head.

"Watch a movie?"

"Any movie?"

"Anything you like."

"So a musical, a romance, Shakespeare?"

Harvey knows I'm teasing him and he smirks. "Anything, but don't push it."

We spend the next few hours watching comedies. We start with 'Dumb and Dumber'. It's been a while since I've seen it and I don't think I've laughed so much at a movie in ages. It's just what I needed, but as we cuddle up on Harvey's sofa, a tub of chunky monkey kindly delivered by Ray on my lap, I still can't help the images, the feelings and the emotions from crashing into my brain. They're always with me and I can't shut them out. The second I feel good they appear and bitchslap me back to reality. It all happened. It really all happened. How would I ever put this behind me?

We move onto 'Austin Powers' before ending with 'There's Something About Mary'. It's like the 90s are alive and kicking in Harvey's apartment, but that era also brings me back to my secret. Remember I told you how I wished I could go back in time and tell my former self to run? Remember how I wanted you to back me up on that and tell me I was doing the right thing? Before all of this happened to me I was going to leave New York and find a new life away from the magnetic force that kept pulling me backwards towards Harvey Specter. I wanted a new life. Hell, I just wanted to have a life.

And now? Now all I want is him. I need to be near him. I need to touch him. I need to feel his breath on my body. I need to smell his scent on my skin.

That feeling terrifies me. I can't stop thinking about what happened to me, but I can't stop thinking about him even more. My brain can't settle and I can't relax. I said I was going to wait for him to bring up what he said to me – about loving me and never letting me go – but I'm not sure how long I can wait.

"Why don't you get off to bed?" he asks as credits roll on the television screen.

I yawn and stretch, trying to straighten out my dead arm. He leans towards me and helps me rub the stiffness away. It's a gesture that he's never made before. We never touch each other. It's our unwritten rule, remember? Well, at least it was our unwritten rule until last night.

"How does that feel? Better?"

I can feel my cheeks blush. Jesus how old am I?

Our eyes lock for a moment and I feel awkward. He does too. His eyes shift around the room before he gets up and starts straightening the glasses and empty ice cream tubs on the table, taking them with him to the kitchen area.

I stand and start moving towards the bedroom.

He stops me in my tracks. "I'm going to make up the spare room tonight."

Sleep alone? I feel like I've been punched to the gut. Not just because I'd miss his closeness, but because I'm afraid. I'm frightened to sleep and I'm frightened of the dark. I say what I think long before what I think can be processed by my brain. "I want you to sleep next to me."

Harvey's cheeks redden as he turns to face me from the kitchen area. He clenches his jaw expectantly. "Oh?" he asks.

Tears are already in my eyes, threatening to fall and I will them to stay put. I don't know what to say. I gulp and I feel one traitor tear roll down my face. Harvey notices and he comes towards me. I step backwards and raise my hands, telling him to keep his distance. If he holds me now I'm going to break down again and I don't want to break down. I've done enough crying to last a lifetime. "I'm just scared to sleep if you're not there."

He swallows and gives me that look again. The one that's starting to grate on me – the sympathetic one. "I'll sleep next to you as long as you need me to."

"How about forever?" I say and I laugh. It is a joke after all, right?

"If you need me forever, then forever it is."

Wait! What? Okay, Donna, don't even think about over-thinking that one. How about I date-stamp it and file it under 'things Harvey says that he'll backtrack on tomorrow'. Yep, it's a sure thing that was a clanger he'll wish hadn't left his mouth.

I thank him and then I go get ready for bed.

X X X

I feel him climb into bed beside me twenty minutes later. He lies on his back as close to the edge of the bed as possible, but I want and need to feel the warmth of his body – his skin on my skin. I shut my eyes and will him to envelope me in his arms just like he did last night, but that touch doesn't come. I have my back to him and I want to turn over and put my arms around him. The urge is so strong that I can feel my muscles fighting with my bones to keep me in position.

I start to believe he really doesn't want to be here. Or maybe he's afraid.

I've had enough.

I turn over in the bed and my face is inches from his. He is staring at the ceiling with one arm resting over his head. "You don't have to sleep here if you don't want to," I whisper.

He turns to look at me, shifting his body until we face each other. "I do want to … that's the problem."

"Why?"

"You know why."

I start to breathe faster and my pulse races. We're lying so close, I'm not sure if the heartbeat I can hear is his, or if it is mine. The phrase which follows 'you know why' is the one which struck like a bomb last year, the debris splintering my heart into broken shards that I had convinced myself could only be repaired by my running away from him. ' _You know I love you, Donna_.'

I don't press him further. I don't want him to repeat those words. I don't want to hear them again. I don't want to have to live with the damage that always comes afterwards, so instead I let it go. I accept that he is struggling in different ways than I am right now and for once I don't have the energy to try and look inside his head because I'm too busy trying to cope with what's inside mine.

I turn over again so that my back is to him. I decide this is the last time I'm going to ask him to sleep next to me. I realise I'm just adding extra complications. I can sleep with the lights on after all.

But then I feel his arm slide under my arm, gripping me around my middle. He exhales as he carefully sweeps my hair to one side and his chin nuzzles against my shoulder. I feel his knees fit into the back of my knees, his thighs under my thighs, my ass presses against his stomach.

I can't control what happens next and I curse my brain for abandoning me to my base instincts. My stomach starts to flutter and I feel a familiar rhythmic pulse between my legs as my heartrate quickens again. I rock backwards, shuffling my body into his. It isn't right and it's not fair, but my body isn't listening to my brain because my body wants to feel him. I want to feel his arms all over me, his mouth all over me … his body inside of me.

I rock backwards again and I can feel that he has hardened. He whispers my name softly into my ear, his voice pleading, but I don't stop what I'm doing.

And then he lets go of me and moves away. The separation bringing both torture and humiliation. Why?

I can hear him breathing hard as he lies on his back. He gasps my name into the room again and I start to cry.

"Donna, please don't cry," I hear him whisper, but his voice is softer than my sobs and all I can hear are my own crushing thoughts in my head. 'Why? Why is he doing this?'

I sniff into the pillow and try to stop crying. "Just go," I say.

"I don't want to go. I want to stay here … I can't go and just … just because … I …"

I sit up in bed, my anger rising as I raise my voice until my throat feels like it's being cut by a razor. "Just because what, Harvey? Just because you don't love me in that way?"

"I do love you."

"You don't, Harvey. If you loved me ... really love me ... then you wouldn't have needed a man to half kill me to make you tell me so. If you loved me … you'd want to …"

"Don't you get it?" He raises his voice to meet mine. "It's because I love you that I can't do this!"

The room is lit grey with the moonlight outside. It's never dark in Harvey's bedroom. I can see every contour of his face, every crease in his expression, every spark in his eye. "I don't understand."

He inhales another breath of air and I can feel his throat vibrate. He is shaking and not for the first time I am lost. I can't understand him. "I'm a coward, Donna. I'm a coward and this is all my fault."

"What are you talking about? You're not a coward Harvey."

"I am and you need to find someone who is better than me. You deserve better. Hell, I want to be that man, but I'm not. All I do is hurt you or I put you in a position where … shit … this is all down to me! A year ago I told you how I felt and I ran and …" his voice dipped and shook as he lay next to me, staring up at the ceiling. It was as if he knew looking into my eyes would break him. "What I'm saying is, if I hadn't ran you wouldn't have ended up with that bastard."

"Harvey, I've told you how I feel about 'what ifs'. It isn't that straightforward and it never has been with us. We are complicated."

"No, Donna, we aren't. _**I**_ am complicated. _**I**_ complicate things. I'm a coward."

"Oh Harvey, no you're not. I'm not letting you blame yourself for this."

"Well, I do blame myself and I … I can't … I don't know what to do. You nearly died and if you had …" He grinds his teeth and contorts the muscles in his face to stop the tears I know are threatening to fall. Will this be the fourth time I see him cry? "Don't you see? I love you and I can't bear the thought of being apart from you … not even for a second … but I also know that every move I make, every word I say, every fucking thought I think is capable of hurting you and that fact terrifies me. I can't protect you because I'm the one you need protecting from."

He gets out of the bed and stands with his back to me. "I don't think I should sleep here."

I watch him leave and I am stunned. His words strike me cold as I finally appreciate the power of the emotions he's been wrestling with. How didn't I know that this was what he was feeling?

I know he loves me. What I didn't know was that it _**was**_ the 'I can't live another second without you' kind of love. The same love that I feel for him. The love that has hurt me over and over again for thirteen years.

I thought about the pair of us. Were we becoming a tragic modern-day, middle-aged version of Romeo and Juliet? Both loving each other and both destroying ourselves because we were too afraid to confront it. The love I feel for him is so painful that all I can think about is giving up and running away. Meanwhile, the love he feels for me has terrified him so much that he's built an emotional wall to stop himself ever reaching me.

I lie in bed for hours as I fit together every piece of the jigsaw puzzle that was our past. Every look he has given me – every comment he has made – every man he has been jealous of – every time he has jumped to my defence. I see his actions and reactions through different eyes now and I understand that for him, loving me and protecting me means keeping me on the other side of the wall – as far away from him as possible.

I don't sleep until it is morning and when I wake, he is gone.

I know he is gone when I focus on a figure sitting in the corner of the room. Louis. He is asleep and snoring and oh my god how the hell is he making that much noise?


	9. Chapter 9 - The Babysitters

THIRTEEN YEARS

Chapter Nine – The Babysitters

Louis is still sleeping in the bedroom armchair when I leave the bathroom, all showered and dressed. I look at him and can't help grin. His suit jacket is crumpled and stretched around his middle, one button pinning it together so it looks more than ready to pop. I don't know where Louis gets his suits, but it sure isn't from the same place as Harvey. Either that or he's too cheap to get them fitted properly because I don't think I've ever seen Louis wear anything that isn't at least two sizes too small.

I tiptoe out of the bedroom and see what I can find in the kitchen. Jeez, Harvey wasn't kidding when he said he had cereal and not much else. In fact, he has cereal and nothing else. No milk. No bread. It's a good thing I still don't have my appetite back because I'm only looking for food out of necessity – not out of any desire to eat. I have a very growly stomach which is starting to irritate me, so I hunt through the cupboards and stumble upon a can of chicken soup. It's 9.00am. Not exactly soup o'clock, but what the stomach wants, the stomach will have to have!

Then I hunt for a can opener. Yes, you heard me correctly. A can opener! It's like the gods are toying with me. You'd think he'd have one, wouldn't you? If he has cans he has a can opener, right? Well, it isn't in his cutlery drawer. It isn't in the utensil drawer. Ah-ha. Dishwasher, there it is. Who the hell dish washes can openers? Never mind!

I pour the soup contents into a pan and stir on the hob. And I think about last night and what Harvey said to me: " _Don't you see? I love you and I can't bear the thought of being apart from you … not even for a second … but I also know that every move I make, every word I say, every fucking thought I think is capable of hurting you and that fact terrifies me. I can't protect you because I'm the one you need protecting from_."

I didn't sleep until it was light last night because my brain wouldn't allow me to rest. Those words kept on repeating over and over and over again. I feel so sad. Thirteen years I've hoped. Thirteen years I've waited. And now?

I never wanted to feel like this. I didn't want my heart to choose him. If I could have made it pick somebody else over the years then I would have, but it's always been him. His presence spoiling relationship after relationship for no other reason that I wanted him and nobody ever came close to who he was. All those years I couldn't tell him because he was my friend and I didn't want to lose him as my friend. Hell, I could barely admit it to myself. I smile every single second of every day I get to work with him because I know I am lucky that we share at least some part of our lives together. But, that never once stopped the pain of loving someone who couldn't love me back.

Or at least that was what I thought.

Now, I'm actually quite sure that he always did love me back. Maybe right from the start he loved me. What I never ever saw coming was that _**he**_ didn't feel good enough for me. That's the problem bit. Where did that come from? How could he even think that I needed protection from him? Does that mean he knew he'd hurt me? Does it mean he didn't trust himself to love me? Does he think that little of himself? Did his mother truly make him into a man who was afraid to be loved?

I run the spoon around the contents of the pan until the soup is piping hot and then I pour it into a bowl and start to eat. The first few mouthfuls aren't too kind to my body as the hot soup scalds my crushed windpipe and I have to fight throwing it back up. I place my hand over my mouth and concentrate on keeping it down. And then I try again and swallow some more. After a few more mouthfuls the hot liquid starts to soothe my throat as opposed to irritate it, so I'm able to finish the bowl and my stomach stops sounding like a hungry lion cub lives in it.

No sooner have I placed my bowl in the sink as I hear shouts of 'Donna' from the bedroom. Harvey's apartment is open-plan so I don't need to yell through walls for Louis to hear me, but as it's morning and as I haven't spoken a word yet, when I call 'I'm in here' my voice is croaky and quiet.

I walk towards the bedroom area just as Louis runs out. He is in a blind panic and his face is pale. He looks as if he's going to pass out. "Louis, what is it?" I manage to rasp, my hand shooting to my throat as the pain cuts into me again.

Louis face crumbles before me. His colour turns from white, to peach, to pink, to an alarming shade of red and I fear he's going to have another heart attack. I practically leap forward and take hold of his arms. "Louis, what's the matter," I whisper.

"I thought … I thought …" and then he's gone. Tears explode from his face and roll down his billowy cheeks in great rivers as he sweeps me into his arms, his wet, spongy face tucking into my neck. He is holding me so tight he almost knocks the air out of me, but I respond by holding him back. Louis's hugs are always so lovely and this one is the best I've ever had. I ignore the fact that he's breaking his heart for a moment and I indulge in his warm embrace instead.

It feels like minutes have passed before he releases me and when he does, I suddenly feel very alone. I take hold of his hands and lead him to the sofa. "Can I get you anything? A coffee? I don't think Harvey has a prunie for you."

Louis starts to laugh, and his nose glistens as his laugh morphs into a splutter. He wipes his nose on his sleeve and I smile at how much he looks like a child. "I'm okay. I was just worried. Harvey told me I had to watch you."

Ah-ha. That's why he was so terrified when he woke up. "I'm sure he didn't mean like 'watch me – watch me', Louis. It was a bit disconcerting to wake up to you sleeping in the chair beside me."

"I wanted to watch you."

I nod my head as I take in what he's telling me. I knew I'd be doing this when Jessica said Louis would be my first baby sitter yesterday, so I may as well go with it. "I'm okay, Louis. You needn't worry."

"Are you? Are you okay?"

Oh god, the look on his face is breaking my heart. How do I make this better for him? I feel my eyes fill up again and I start to lose it. He squeezes my hand and I'm gone. "No, I'm not okay," I say between sobs. "But I will be. Because I have great friends like you."

"Donna, if anything had happened to you … I …"

"I know, Louis."

"I don't think you do. I know Harvey needs you, but I need you too. You're the best friend I've ever had. Hell, if you were less beautiful, less smart and less freaking awesome, I'd probably fall in love with you."

I look at him quizzically and I think I get what he's telling me. "That doesn't make much sense, Louis, but thank you … I think."

"When Harvey told me … I … I blamed him. I said it was his fault … I …"

"Oh, no, Louis please tell me you didn't!"

"I did. I was so goddamn angry I couldn't even see straight. All I could think about was that he left you alone last night and … well it's always his stupid fault … how could he let this happen?"

I can feel what I know is a look of horror wash over my face as I imagine what Harvey's reaction will have been to that. "Oh, Louis … I can't even begin to tell you how unfair that is …"

"I know."

"You know?"

"Yeah well … Harvey didn't say anything. It was weird. He looked like he was going to hit me, but then he just … he just walked off. Then Jessica ripped me a new asshole."

I lower my eyes and bow my head. It takes all that I have to not chew out Louis myself. "He saved my life, Louis. You shouldn't have said that to him."

"He … he … saved your life?"

I nod my head slowly, wondering if Louis actually knows what happened. "Of course he did. Don't you know …?"

"No. You mean … he was there?"

What? I don't want to tell this story again. Why the hell hasn't anybody told him? "What do you think happened, Louis?"

Louis's face freezes and he swallows hard. Then the redness rushes back to his head via his pulsating neck. "Uhm … that … that fucking bastard got in your apartment …?"

"And …?"

"Donna, do I have to say?"

"Well either you say or I do and to be honest Louis, I'm really done talking about this now so …" I look into his eyes and all I can see is sadness, so I change tack. There's no point in me chastising Louis. This isn't his fault. I take a deep breath and I decide to give him a short version. "Mitchell was outside of my apartment, banging my door and yelling to come in. I called Harvey and he came over. If he hadn't got to me when he did then … okay, well there's no easy way to say it Louis, so I'm just going to say it … I wouldn't be sitting here with you right now if it weren't for Harvey."

"Oh my god."

Louis freezes. His eyes are dull and lifeless as he stares into nothing.

"Oh my god," he repeats.

"Louis! Louis look at me!"

"I didn't know, I mean … oh my god." And then he's gone again.

We sit together in a silence randomly punctuated by Louis's snorts and sniffs. And then there's a knock at the door. It's just before 10.00am so I figure my next baby-sitter has arrived. Louis wipes at his nose again and gets to the door like lightening, "Harvey says we're to open the door. You need to stay back."

I don't have the energy to protest.

I hear him unlock the door. "I hope you've completed the Davies account and called Peterson to tell him where I was and you'd better have taken … erm … watched those douchebag traders didn't put their miserable money-grabbing paws on my bran bars. Did you label that box with my name like I asked and did you put the key back in my top drawer."

Gretchen strolls through the door, her face full of consternation. "Yeah, I did all those things."

"Good. Right. I'll see you tomorrow," he calls back without making eye contact and he marches off down the hallway. Gretchen closes the door behind him, swings around and cocks her head to one side. "I don't suppose he's been much use this morning."

I shake my head and smile. "He's just been … well, Louis."

Gretchen walks into Harvey's apartment and looks around the place, her expression deadpan as usual. "You know, Red, if I could put money on what kinda place Mr Specter would be living in this would be it. It's like a pimp's palace in here. Doesn't he know what goddamn walls are?"

I laugh again. Gretchen is just what I need. "How is he?"

It takes her a moment to connect who I'm talking about. "Mr Specter?" she asks. I nod my head. "He ain't doing too good from what I seen." Her voice is soft, but rich. "But, he ain't as important as you. How are you doing?"

I've learned 'oh, I'm fine' goes down like a lead balloon, so I make a promise to start telling the truth when people ask me that question. "Not great, but I'll get there."

"My, you ain't half gotten yourself in trouble, ain't you Red?"

I don't know whether to laugh or cry. I'm tired of crying, so I try a laugh. I watch as Gretchen takes in my visible injuries and I know I can't hide anything from her. She shoots me a sympathetic smile. "I know. I look awful. You don't have to say."

"He's worried about you."

"Who? Louis?"

"No. Mr Specter. I ain't seen him like this before … well not since you left him, but even then he weren't like this. I can see it all in his face. He doesn't have to say nothing."

I lower my eyes and turn away. I don't know what to say.

"I'm sorry, Red. I shouldn't have said anything. I just … well this has hit him like a truck."

We lock eyes for a moment and share a silence which speaks volumes. Gretchen knows the way things are between us. She's always known.

"What are we going to do to pass the time? We can't just sit here looking at each other for three hours. Oh and seeing as I got the lunch time slot, I brought you some lunch."

She holds up a brown paper bag stocked with bagels, salads and fresh fruit. It actually looks quite nice, so I smile and thank her. We spend the rest of the morning watching TV. I suggested maybe a nice romance or rom-com but Gretchen has other ideas. She grabs the remote and orders up Lethal Weapon. We have lunch at twelve and as one o'clock approaches there is a knock at the door.

"You sit tight there, I'll see to the door," said Gretchen. She's obviously received the same orders as Louis.

I keep my eyes fixed on the door until Jessica appears. Gretchen gets her coat, picks up her things and says goodbye. Jessica walks in with an armful of … hmm … what on earth has she brought?

"I didn't really know what to bring and I figured you mightn't want to talk, so I thought … girly stuff would pass the time."

"Girly stuff?" I can't help but smile. Jessica Pearson has brought girly stuff over for a girly afternoon! Never in a million years …

"Yeah, sure you saying I can't do girly?"

She smiles warmly and I smile back. There's something about Jessica that's always set me on edge and I don't talk to her as easy as I do other people. Don't get me wrong – I like her and I respect her – but, well she's the boss, so of course she isn't the same as everybody else.

Jessica starts to unload her bag, reaming off the items she's brought. "Face creams, scrubs and treatments – you can keep them when we're finished – champagne, strawberries, some kind of monkey ice cream Harvey said you liked … and the absolute finest in Parisian chocolate. Oh and Dirty Dancing."

"You … uhm … like Dirty Dancing?"

She cocks her head to one side, "Yeah, well … somebody puts Jessica in a corner."

I start to laugh until my sides hurt. She couldn't have delivered that line more wrong if she tried.

"What's so funny?" asks Jessica, her deep brown eyes sparkling as she starts to laugh too.

"It's 'nobody'. Nobody puts Jessica in a corner."

"Ah … okay … you caught me. I've never seen Dirty Dancing before in my life. I asked Harvey what kind of film would be appropriate for a girly afternoon."

"You … you … asked Harvey?"

We both laugh again. "Well, I know he knows about films. And he did give me the line."

"The wrong line!"

We laugh, but then an awkward silence sweeps over both of us. I clear my throat nervously as Jessica takes off her shoes and makes herself comfortable. She pours me a glass of champagne and we grab a couple of strawberries each before sitting down on the sofa. Side by side. And I can't think of anytime that this has happened before. Of course it hasn't happened before. My stomach knots as I feel the strangeness of the situation wash over me and I place my glass back down on the coffee table, the clunk of glass upon glass echoing how fragile I'm feeling inside.

Jessica shifts awkwardly on the sofa next to me, "you know, Donna. These are awful circumstances that have brought me here this afternoon but I have to say we should have done this before now."

I smile and I wonder how many friends – real friends – Jessica Pearson actually has. She never talks about her friends, but then she's very private and always so professional. "Well, we're doing it now and thank you …"

She sits back regally on the sofa and crosses her legs before sipping some of her champagne. "So how are you doing?"

That question again. Same answer again. "I've been better."

"Are you in pain?"

"Some. Just in my throat … uhm … it's just like having a really bad cold, but at least I don't have a runny nose."

"Small mercies." She reaches for another strawberry and starts fiddling with the leaf. "I can't imagine anything worse than what you've been through, Donna. I just wanted you to know that I care about you and I think of you as a friend. I appreciate how hard this must be and I think you're coping amazingly well. You must be very strong."

I feel my eyes water again and I fight them dry. "I'm not coping through any brave decision on my part. I'm coping because I'm here and it's the only way forward. And that's if I'm coping at all. I can't sleep in the dark and I can't sleep alone and I can't stop crying. Is that coping?"

Jessica nods her head and her huge dark eyes practically disappear under a frown. "But Harvey's here and he loves you."

Jesus fucking Christ, what?

I freeze onto the sofa as if I've been dipped in carbonite. I stare at her, my mouth wide open. Where the hell did that come from? "Wha-what do you mean?"

"Oh come on, do you think I was born yesterday? I've known he loved you from the first moment he mentioned your name. Do you know what he said to me … what … twelve years ago, is it?"

"Almost thirteen," I say with trepidation. I wonder where on earth she's going with this.

"Thirteen years. Well, thirteen years ago he said you were special and no way was he coming to work for me without you. And then? I mean come on … Scottie leaving him barely left a mark on him, but when you left to work for Louis he …"

She trails off as I flinch at her words. She notices and her expression changes. I hate being reminded of that time.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said all this. I guess … well … all I'm trying to say to you is that you _**have**_ him. He cares about you very much and I know things are far more complicated than I could even begin to imagine but, I know he loves you. I've known it from day one.

I don't feel 'at ease' for the next couple of hours. We watch the movie, but neither of us are 'really' watching it. I think Jessica may have nodded off in the middle, which is a shame because she missed her 'nobody puts Baby in a corner' line. When she wakes up she tackles her phone, declaring she has twenty-four missed calls. I tidy up while she get on with business, then I go for a lie down.

X X X

I must have slept for hours. I'm slightly disorientated when I wake up and I lie in silence in Harvey's bed, just thinking. All of those thoughts and feelings I had about leaving New York resurface again. I need to see my parents. I want to feel my mom holding me. I want to see my dad – but my god, I can't let them see me like this. I want to protect them from what happened to me because it would destroy them. They don't need to know that their daughter was almost murdered by her boyfriend.

And then I think about Harvey. I think about this never ending treadmill we're on. He loves me. I love him. He doesn't think he's worthy of me. I am frustrated as hell with him. He clams up, refusing to acknowledge how he feels. I need to save my heart from getting broken … again and again and again.

I glance over to the clock and it's almost 5.30pm. I wonder if Jessica is still here. She can't be, surely. I get out of bed and walk through the open-plan doorway into the living area and I see Rachel sitting at Harvey's table with her laptop open and an array of papers around her.

She stands up as soon as she sees me and practically runs to me. Another great hug! Another hug which makes me cry. I pull away and she's crying too, so we embrace again and for a few minutes that is all we do. Hug each other and cry.

"I'm so sorry, Donna. I can't believe this has happened. I just can't believe it."

We sit down together and I can see the tension in her big, round eyes. I deliver _**the**_ line. "I'll be fine, don't worry about me."

She brings her hand up and touches my neck, running her fingers gently over the bruises. I close my eyes and place my hand on hers, my body shuddering as I try to stop erupting into sobs again. "I don't know what to say. I … don't know how to make you feel better."

And then I ask her something that had crossed my mind as I'd been lying in bed earlier. "Please let me come stay with you." She looks shocked – _**really**_ shocked. And I feel shocked that I'm asking her.

She narrows her doe-like brown eyes and her brow creases into a frown. "What? I mean … of course you can … of course. But why?"

I rest my arm on the back of the sofa and wonder how I'm going to explain this to her. I've spent so long keeping my thoughts about Harvey to myself that I don't know how to share, but this is Rachel. She's a great listener. I need to share this with somebody. "Before all this happened I was making plans to leave."

"What? Where? I mean … you were planning on leaving the firm?"

I nod my head. "I would have waited until we were back on our feet, but yes. I was going to leave Harvey and I was going to move away. I was probably going to leave the city. I didn't love Mitchell. Yeah, well obviously you knew that, but Mitchell never featured in this. I was going to call things off with him and I was going to get a job somewhere else."

Rachel is frozen on the seat next to me. Frozen and speechless. Her eyes are asking 'why'?

"I need to live my own life, Rach. Whatever happens here, whoever I date, whatever Harvey feels about me – nothing ever changes. He keeps pulling me back. He won't let me go … he won't let me be free. I never told you why I left him to go work for Louis, did I?"

Rachel shakes her head and swallows hard. She's finding his upsetting, but she's listening and I'm pleased I have her.

"He told me he loved me."

"What … Harvey told you?" It was a question, but she knew the answer.

"Yes, we were in my apartment. It was just after the Liberty Rail thing. We were talking, there was a moment when … well something happened and I thought he was going to make a move, but he stopped himself. He said he had to leave, I asked him why and he said that I knew why. And then, just before he walked through the door he said, " _you know I love you, Donna_."

For a brief moment I think I see Rachel smile, but then she must have realised that that didn't end well.

"And then the next morning he backtracked. He wouldn't tell me how he loved me or what he meant. In fact, he said he'd said it to make me feel better."

"Oh no. He didn't." She rolls her eyes. Even she knows this is classic Harvey.

"Yup, he did. So, that's why I left. I needed to separate my life from his. I came back to him when he needed me, with Mike, but I thought I'd done it. I had met Mitchell … but … well I … I knew I didn't love him. I knew I didn't love him like I loved … Harvey."

"Oh, Donna, I'm so sorry."

"Do you understand why I wanted to leave? Please tell me you understand because I just need to hear I'm doing the right thing."

"I understand, but I don't want you to go. I'm not sure that would be the right thing to do."

I sigh and take hold of her hand, gripping her tightly. "I don't want to go, but I have to."

"Have you told Harvey?"

I shake my head. "Things are so complicated. Since this all happened he's different. I can think of a thousand reasons not to leave and most of them revolve around how he's going to react."

"Donna, he does love you. He does. He just needs time."

"He's had thirteen years, Rach. He's had thirteen years of _**my**_ life!"

"But, you need to talk to him. You need to tell him all of this."

"Do you not think I've tried? Since this happened he's been … well he's been wonderful and perfect and so caring. He saved my life, Rach. He saved my life and … and I'm frightened …"

Rachel holds my hand tighter and moves closer to me. "Why? What are you frightened of?"

"I'm frightened by how much I need him. I'm terrified of how much I need him to hold me and never let me go." I break down again. God, I just need to get out of this place and run.

"You can't run away. Not now. Especially if you feel like this. You can't leave, not after everything that's happened."

"He told me he loves me again. Since this happened. He's said he won't let me go ever again. He blames himself for Mitchell because he says he should have stepped up the first time he told me he loved me. The time before I left to work for Louis. And then … last night …"

Rachel pulls me into her arms and starts to rub my back. I love the smell of her perfume. It's citrusy and it is soothing. "What happened last night," she asks me gently and she strokes my hair.

"He said he wants to protect me but he can't because he's the one who hurts me. That's what he's terrified of … he can't love me because he's terrified of hurting me."

She hugs me tighter and I can feel her heartbeat syncing with mine. "You are not leaving. You can come stay with me, but no way are you leaving. This is ridiculous. You both love each other … and well … now just isn't the time to make any big decisions. Not after what you've been through."

I pull out of her arms. "Nothing is going to change, Rach." Then I stand and start moving into the bedroom.

"Wait. Where are you going?"

"I'm going to pack up my things."

"You're not going to tell him. Talk to him first?"

I think about what she's suggesting and I shrug my shoulders. "No, I want to leave before he gets back. What time is he due to take over?"

"Not until seven, but Donna, seriously, I don't think this is a good idea."

"Are you telling me I can't come stay?"

Rachel stands to face me. Her dark eyes are still filled with so much pain. "No, of course not. You can stay as long as you need to, but I just think doing this without talking to him first might really hurt him."

I know it will. But what choice do I have? "Rach, I know, but I can't take anymore of him pulling me towards him only to push me away again. I nearly died two nights ago. Someone I trusted nearly killed me. If I had died on the floor of my own apartment what would my life have amounted to? I have nothing. My life is nothing …"

Rachel's eyes fill up as she listens to me. "Okay, but we're calling him. I'll call him if you want me to. He's not coming home to find you gone."

I agree and then I go pack.

I hope I'm doing the right thing, but even if I'm not, I know I don't have a choice.

X X X

 **Sorry for the delay guys! I'm writing my own non-Darvey stories at the moment so my fanfics have taken a back seat. It's also the school holidays and I have three children (all under 8) at home, so I don't have as much time on my hands. I'm flying away for a bit of sun, sea and sand for a couple of weeks now, so unfortunately, there's going to be another big wait before Chapter 10. Thank you all for being so patient! Eliza xx**


	10. Chapter 10 - Tomorrow

THIRTEEN YEARS

Chapter 10 - Tomorrow

 _He is standing over me. His face is dark and his eyes are even darker as he ropes me to the bed._

 _I try to struggle. I call his name, but he doesn't respond. I beg him to stop. "Mitchell, please …"_

 _His face is close to mine as he strengthens his grip around my neck. I look into his eyes, pleading with him to stop. Begging him to let me go. His eyes get darker. His fair hair becomes darker. I can't breathe, but it isn't him … it isn't … he stops and stands back, just watching me._

" _Harvey?" I cry but I still can't move. "HARVEY?"_

" _I can't save you. I can't protect you. It's me you need protecting from."_

X X X

I jolt upwards in the bed, my eyes slowly adjusting to the dark.

"Donna, it's okay, you've had a bad dream."

I feel Rachel's hand on mine and I hear a click as she switches on the light. She was sleeping next to me and I feel bad for waking her. I feel even worse for encroaching into her life because I know how hard things are for her with Mike in prison. I'm the last thing she needs right now.

I take a few deep breaths and try to make my heartrate slow down. I feel sick. The last time I had a nightmare I was sick, so I panic and jump out of the bed to make sure I don't ruin Rachel's beautiful cotton bedding. She gets up to. "Do you want to talk about it?"

I shake my head and breathe deeply, trying to calm myself down, but my body is shaking and I don't know how much longer my legs will hold me up. She puts her arms around me as we stand and eventually I start to feel better and I take a seat on the edge of the bed. "I've had dreams like this before … I'm sorry …"

"Hey, it's okay."

"No, it's not okay. I shouldn't be here. You have enough to contend with."

Rachel's deep brown eyes pull me in. "Don't even think of worrying about me, Donna. I'm here as long as you need me. I want to help. I can't be there for Mike, but I can be here for you."

I smile and allow her hold to comfort me. It's a strange change of dynamic. I am always the comforter and I don't know how to be this other person. This pathetic person who can't stop crying and has bad dreams like a child. I don't think I've ever been in this position before, so I allow Rachel to take her turn.

"What do you dream about? You were calling his name – Mitchell's."

I take a deep breath and clear my throat. I start rubbing my leg for no good reason. Nerves, maybe? "It's the same as before. A combination of what happened. I'm usually on my bed … tied to my bed … then …" I wipe away a few tears as Rachel hugs me tighter, making soft 'shushing' noises into my hair. "… then he strangles me."

"Oh, Donna, I'm so, so sorry. I just can't believe you're going through something like this."

I sniff more tears away and glance at the clock on the bedside table. It's one a.m. and I know Rachel has school tomorrow. "You need to sleep. We should go back to sleep."

She nods and strokes my arm tenderly. "Are you sure you're okay?" I nod back. "One more thing. You called out Harvey's name in your dream too. Does he save you in your dream?"

I freeze as the haunting image returns like a freaking zombie clawing at me. I shake my head, "no, he didn't. Not this time." Rachel's eyes are persistent as she wills me to continue. "This time it wasn't Mitchell, it was Harvey who was … who was doing it … oh, Rach what have I done?"

She doesn't understand but I can tell she's worried. She reaches over to the table and pulls a handful of tissues out of a cube-shaped box that is trimmed with lace. "Do you want me to call him?"

"No, I can't see him."

"He's really worried, Donna. He has sent me three text messages to check you're okay. We shouldn't have just left a note for him. You should have talked to him before coming over here, you should …"

"I said no, Rach! Jesus Christ!" I shouldn't be raising my voice but I can't explain how I'm feeling and I can't make her understand what this is like. Hell, I don't understand myself, so how can I expect Rachel to. "I'm sorry. I can't … I just need …" my voice hitches in my throat and croaks softly. I realise for the first time that my throat is starting to feel better. At least that's one thing to be thankful for.

"Donna, I'm going to be here for you, okay. I'm here and you can cry, you can scream, you can talk, and you can hide away here for as long as you want, but I'm also going to ask you questions you might not want to answer because I don't think that shutting Harvey out is the right thing to do right now."

"How do you know? How …? You don't know who we are. You don't know what this means … this thing … this nightmare that's happened. He …"

My heart misses a beat when I hear a knock at Rachel's door. The knock is swiftly followed by another, then another and then silence. I feel panic rise in my chest and I can hear my blood pressure thudding in my ears. I can't help what happens next. Fear overwhelms me until I can't think of anything but running. "It's him. It must be him." I break down and I cry so hard that poor Rachel starts to panic too. In between trying to calm me down and wondering what the hell she should do, she gasps as I run from one side of the bed to the other. "Don't answer the door. Please don't answer the door!"

"He doesn't know you're here, it can't be him. He doesn't know who I am or where I live."

"I've mentioned you to him. He knows you're my best friend. Please, Rach … please … oh my god, oh my god, please …"

There is another knock. Louder this time and more insistent. Just like before. This is the way it happened before.

"Go to the bathroom and lock the door."

"No, no!" I walk towards her and clutch onto her arms and I think she must think I've lost my mind. I feel like I have. I feel crazy. "Don't answer. He'll hurt you and I couldn't live with myself if …"

" _Rachel_."

We both hear it and our eyes both tell each other's the same thing. We both relax. "I'll answer it," she says gently. "What do you want me to say?"

I shake my head and shrug. "I don't know."

Another knock accompanied by a pitiful plea. " _Rachel, please_."

"I'll go."

"Are you sure," asks Rachel. "Do you want me to come with you?"

I shake my head. "No, just stay here and try to get some sleep. I'll be quick and I'll try to keep the noise down, I promise."

Rachel nods and gives me a hug before I go.

X X X

For some ridiculous reason I find myself smoothing down my hair and wrapping my robe around me neatly before opening the door. Isn't that strange? After everything I've been through and after Harvey has seen all the ugly marks on my body, I'm still worrying about what I look like.

I take a deep breath and steady myself before opening the door, but when I pull it back I gasp in shock as I see the state of the man who has always been my rock. He practically collapses through the doorway and stumbles past me into the living room. His skin is dark and wet, his eyes are lost and his breathing is shallow. He looks at me pleadingly and his chest wheezes heavily.

"Harvey what is it? What's happened?"

He folds his body down into Rachel's armchair. "I'm okay. I'm okay," he repeats, but I know he's not. I know he's having a panic attack.

I run to the kitchen and quickly pour a glass of water, before running back to him. He takes the glass and thanks me. I leave him to sit quietly for a few moments as he composes himself. He wipes the sweat from his brow and he slumps back against the chair, his eyes fixed to the ceiling as he takes deep and seemingly painful inhalations of air.

I don't speak. I sit opposite and wait for him. I protectively curl my legs up under my chin.

He finishes the glass of water and wipes at his brow again. And then he looks at me. "Why?" is all that he says to me.

I don't know how to respond. I feel like shit. I've done this to him again. I left him and it happened again. Is that what he's asking me? Why did I leave, or why does he get panic attacks after I do? I'm sure this push and pull we have is terrifying for both of us now. We are interconnected with each other. Our roots are entwined and for thirteen years we have grown towards the sun with every single branch of our lives tangled together in a huge fucking knot that neither one of us can unravel. Our relationship has become symbiotic. We can't function alone. Yet we can't be together.

"I just needed space, Harvey."

"But … I …" he looks to the floor and he looks like he's about to break down. Then, inexplicably, he stands up. "I should go."

He walks towards the door, but I catch him. "No, no you're not leaving like this. Not again. Talk to me. Why are you here?"

His eyes are covered in a thick veil of water that I know is about to shatter. The fifth time? Tears slowly erupt from his eyes and dampen the tops of his cheeks. It is the fifth time I've seen him cry and the fourth in the past three days. I feel responsible for that. And I know what you're thinking, I know I shouldn't. I know this isn't my fault, but I can't help it. Harvey hates showing weakness.

He quickly composes himself as I wrestle my own tears. "I couldn't bear not being close to you. I need … I can't …" He isn't making any sense and I'm worried. I know this is hard for him. Talking about his feelings and even having emotions at all is torment for Harvey. I lead him back to Rachel's living room and I sit next to him on the sofa.

"I'm sorry," he says as he regains some composure – as well as some colour.

"I left to give myself some space to think, Harvey. I'm sorry. I just needed to get away from …"

"From me?" He looks heartbroken as he asks the question and I feel like shit. Again.

I nod slowly. "I don't know what's happening to me Harvey. I don't know what's happening to us."

He reaches out to me but I shuffle backwards. I don't want him to touch me. I can't go down that road again. I don't want to feel love that is there, but isn't there.

"When I got back from work and you weren't there, I panicked. I saw the note straight away, but I panicked because I … I can't let you go. I need to feel your pulse when you're sleeping. I need to hear you breathing. I need to listen to your voice and I need to know you're safe."

His voice trails into a sob and I'm shocked by the strength of what he's going through. I didn't expect this. I knew he cared for me, I knew … well I thought … he loved me, but this just seems too much. "Harvey, I don't know what to say."

"I know and I hate myself for this. I hate myself for doing this now, but I didn't know before … look, you know I love you. I told you and …"

"And then you backtracked."

"But you know why I did that. You're Donna. You know."

I exhale deeply and wish I could breathe out my pain and confusion so it is gone forever. "Yes, I know, but that's not good enough. You couldn't do it, Harvey. You couldn't be there for me and you just went right back to the way things have always been. I can't live my life like that. It took this to happen and now suddenly you want to make grandiose confessions and promises to me? I can't … it's too soon … I don't know how to feel and I always know, but this time I don't because I'm lost and I need to be found and I need time to do that."

"Donna, I've tried to explain why I did what I did all those months ago. I love you and I always have, but I shut it out of my brain for thirteen years because you had that rule and I had a track record with women which told me that if I even thought about having anything more than the best goddamn friendship in the fucking world with you I would screw it up and lose you forever. That's why I went back to how thing have always been. But I can't go back now, not after this."

He moves towards me again, but this time I don't flinch. This time I allow him to reach for my hand and hold it in his.

"You nearly died and you're damn right when you said that changed how I feel, because I refuse to go back now. I don't want to go back. I can't let you go again. My fucking stupid body won't let me let you go because look what happens to me when you leave. I want to try … and I'm asking you if you'll let me try."

For thirteen years I've been imagining this moment. This exact moment right here. This precise second of time when Harvey Specter asks me this question. I envisaged feeling elated. I thought there'd be flowers and kisses and then we'd probably follow it all up with some whipped-cream infused fun in the bedroom. So, right now, a few seconds ago, it just happened. And I don't feel anything but confusion. I look to the floor and I run my fingers along the scabs on my wrists, reminding me yet again of how close I came to losing my life. This wasn't how my life was going to turn out.

"I don't know, Harvey. I think we're two damaged and incomplete people and I don't think we can complete each other until we fix ourselves."

"Come back to me. I'll give you all the time you need. We'll go see Doctor Agard first thing tomorrow – both of us – and we'll get fixed … and … just come back …"

I can't take it anymore. I fucking know what it is to be strangled until you can't breathe. I've had somebody squeeze everything but the last breath out of my body. And now? Now I feel like I'm suffocating all over again. I love him, but I can't.

"No, Harvey!" I rise to my feet and he looks like he's been hit by a truck. I immediately worry he'll descend into panic again, so I do everything I can to make what I'm going to say easy for him. "I'm not walking away from you. I'm not saying no to you, I just need to come to terms with this."

I sit back down on the sofa next to him and I worry I won't be able to do what I have to do as I look into his eyes and see how hurt he is. "I'm scared Harvey. I'm permanently fucking scared and I have never felt like this before … I hate this … I hate who I've become and I hate what he's done to me and I hate what this has done to you. I've lost control and I'm always in control. Always. When you knocked on the door just now I thought it was him and I was so terrified I didn't know who the hell I was or where I was and I wanted you so much … but …" I allow him to hold me and I shake as I continue. Jesus, when will this end? When will I be Donna again? "I don't want you to love me because you pity me."

"Donna, I don't. I don't pity you."

I raise my hand because I'm not finished. "I don't mean pity me the way I said before – months ago. I mean … you're in shock too. I don't want you to suddenly want to be with me because you feel sorry for me. I don't want what he did to be the reason you want to have a relationship with me. If you love me I want you to love me for the right reasons."

"Donna, every single time I've looked at you over the past thirteen years I've known that I loved you. I love how you talk, how you laugh, how you tease Louis, how you put everyone else's needs before your own, how you do your Donna magic and fucking know everything. I love who you are. I love the way your hair smells after you've just washed it. I love how you walk when you wear those ridiculous high shoes. I love how you don't take shit from anybody – especially me. I haven't felt this way about anybody else – not Zoe, not Scotty – not anybody. I feel this way about you and it's huge and it's awesome and it's petrifying, but I know it's real. And I don't want to stop feeling it and I don't want to shut it out. I want you to come back with me and let me help you through this because I _**am**_ in love with you."

Life is wonderful isn't it? No sooner have I contended with the fact that Harvey Specter is good for nothing but heartbreak, this happens to me. My plans to leave were halted by losing Mike. My plans to get the firm back on its feet were devastated by Mitchell. My plans to get my head put right before I make any more fucking plans are halted by these words Harvey has spoken to me tonight. Everything has been turned on its head. I have no plan anymore. I have no control anymore. All that was me has been blow away and in its place I've been left with a love so strong and strange and unexpected that I feel even more lost.

Maybe this horror I've been through with Mitchell was meant to be. Do you believe in fate? Maybe there's somebody up there who knew Harvey and I belong together, so he made it all happen like this because it was the only way. It would stand to reason that Harvey needed a fucking gigantic shock before he got his ass into gear. But I don't believe in fate and I don't believe in gods. I used to believe in myself and I used to have faith in Harvey, but I'm not sure of anything anymore.

"What are you thinking?" He breaks my silence with a shaking voice and pleading eyes. I want to tell him what he wants to hear. I want to feel his love for me but, I know it isn't that simple.

"I'm thinking I love you, Harvey." He smiles at me and my stomach flips over not once, but five times. It flips the way it always flips when he smiles 'my smile' at me, but it's also flipping through fear of what I have to do. "But, I can't do this. Not yet. It's too soon."

His face falls with disappointment and I can't believe I'm doing this. Not after all of these years. "Hey, I understand," he says.

"Do you?" I ask and I watch his face change as his brain processes. "It seems like I've been waiting my whole life for this. For you. You're my soulmate and … oh my god … I love you. I love you in all of the same ways and more that you love me. It's always been you." I screw up my nose and sniff to stop more tears falling from my eyes. "Can you give me time? I need time to heal, to get better. If I went back with you now I'd never know if we were real or if we just happened because I was almost killed."

He doesn't have to think and he's smiling still, so I relax. "I get that. I'll do whatever you want."

"Okay. Well I'm going to stay here overnight for a while."

He nods his acceptance.

"And you're going to set up some sessions with Doctor Agard."

He nods again. "Consider it done."

"And I'm coming back to work tomorrow."

He opens his mouth to protest, but then he reconsiders. "Whatever you want to do and you can do as much or as little work as you want. And you can stay late to work or leave early … anything."

I smile appreciatively. "Sounds perfect."

"It will be."

I nod my head and I feel better. I think he does too. "So … time to get some sleep, or I'll be good for nothing tomorrow."

I walk him to the door and he opens it, but stops. I knew he would.

He turns around and runs his fingers through my hair, letting his fingertips twist a few strands around his thumb. "I've always loved your hair," he says. And then he goes.

I watch him leave and I wonder about tomorrow.

I wonder if this means we can't ever go back.


	11. Chapter 11 - Shame

**Sorry for the wait with this guys! Full of busy, busy, busy at the moment – kids, businesses and my own writing has taken over my world, but I don't want to leave you all high and dry. I promise I'm going to do my best to finish the stories and hopefully – since we all got a bit of Season 6 Darvey inspiration – I might even write some new!**

 **Still loving these two!**

 **As always – really appreciate reviews if you all have time! Go on, it only takes a second! Xxx**

 **Eliza x**

THIRTEEN YEARS

Chapter Eleven

I don't know when I first realised it.

It may even have been Dr. Agard who pointed it out at my first appointment yesterday. I was embarrassed and self-conscious and I lied … just as I always do when I feel like I'm trapped between a rock and a hard place. I guess I'm still in denial. I told Harvey that I'd return to work the day after he came to Rachel's apartment to talk to me, but I didn't. Morning came and I couldn't get out of bed. I watched Rachel get up, shower, get dressed and then she looked at me as if I were a frightened child. She said everybody would understand if I stayed home just one more day, so I let her kiss me goodbye and she left.

I stayed in bed the entire day.

The next day I didn't go into work either, or the next, or the next.

But on the fourth day – yesterday – I went to the appointment Harvey had made for me. It was a quarter past eleven in the morning as I walked down the tree-lined streets towards Dr. Agard's home-surgery. The sun was shining, but there was a cold edge to the air and a slight wind which sent the golden light bouncing off the leaves and onto the grey pavement under my feet. I remember wishing it were warmer, for no other reason than I love summer and I feel it coming to an end. You know that Fall chill that comes with the changing of the leaves? I can feel its bite already and it's not even October yet.

I wasn't nervous about my appointment. I wanted help … hell, I need help. I still need help. I know Dr. Agard is the absolute best, so I was looking forward to getting a handle on this person I've become. I hate the new Donna, have I told you that? All the bruises have healed and my face, neck, chest has returned to how it was before, but inside I've changed. I'm frightened. I'm lost. And I hate myself.

So, when I walked into Dr. Agard's beautiful sitting room and the first thing she commented on was the smell of alcohol on my breath, I lost my composure, folded in on myself, and I lied.

X X X

 **Yesterday**

"I've been staying with Rachel – she's my best friend and … well, I don't know what I'd have done without her these past few days." My breath hitches in my throat and I can feel my voice start to crack. "We went out last night. You know how it is … probably drank a bit too much."

I put on a laugh to follow the lie but I know Dr. Agard isn't buying it. Her bright blue eyes flash with sympathy and her cheeks dimple as she offers me a smile that reeks of pity. God I hate being pitied more than anything. I feel like running away, but something keeps me rooted to the sofa.

"Donna, if we're going to do this, you have to tell me the truth."

I know she's right. She's as right as I am about everything and I am always right. At least I used to be. The old Donna used to be. I draw in a deep breath and look to my hands. There's still a faint scar on my left wrist from where he bound me. I swear it gets paler every day, but it's still there. I run my fingertips along the white mark as I feel Dr. Agard's eyes watching me closely. I must be a wonderful test subject for her. How could somebody who was always so … well so 'Donna' … end up such a complete fucking wreck?

"I don't actually … know when it … started," I utter in short whispers – each breath laden with shame as I admit to myself. I can even smell the pungent aroma of scotch on my hair and on my clothes. I tried to hide it with perfume before I left Rachel's apartment, but as I sit here, I know I've failed. The smell isn't just lingering on my breath. I've drank so much over the past week that I'm sure I have alcohol coursing through my veins.

"You don't know when the drinking started?" asked Dr. Agard. Her eyes creased with concern. "Have you been drinking this morning?"

She already knows the answer. "Yes, I have. I did it because it helped at first. My throat was so sore after he … uhm … afterwards. Every time I talked the pain used to shoot up into my head until my ears burned. I can't even remember how I first realised it was helping me, but I swear that's how … why I did it. It just helped the pain in my throat …"

"And then?"

I look up and meet her gaze. Her blue eyes are so inviting, yet I'm not sure I want to go in. I mean, a huge part of me wants to talk and wants to get better, but talking means talking, and it means talking about Mitchell and talking about Harvey and I'm not sure what's worse.

"And then I realised drinking was helping in other ways. It's helping me to sleep. My nightmares have stopped and I … I am less scared." She gives me that nauseating sympathetic smile again and my entire body shudders in response. "I hate being me right now," I blurt out suddenly, and then I can't stop. The tears come. The sobbing starts. The tissue box is thrust in front of me.

"How much do you think you've been drinking each day since it happened?"

I sniff into a tissue, then I start twisting the wet paper around in my hands. I know I'm fidgeting and I know what that translates into in psychological terms. And I don't care. "I'm not sure, but it's been a lot. These past few days I've been sleeping because I pass out, not because I'm tired."

"I see," she says softly as she rocks back gently in her chair. "And do you think you can stop?"

Oh Jesus Christ she's talking to me as if I'm an alcoholic. Shit, am I an alcoholic? Am I an addict? Am I going to be found dead this time next year in a hotel bathtub? "I could stop, but I don't want to stop."

"Donna, you have to stop."

"I don't want to! Don't you see? It's the only thing that … it will just hurt me too much if I stop."

"What will hurt you? The nightmares? The memories?"

I shake my head. I need to find the right words, but I don't think there are any. There are no words to explain the shit that is consuming me.

"Then what, Donna. What are you so afraid of?"

"I'm afraid of the pain."

Dr. Agard frowns in confusion and I wonder how much Harvey is paying her because I've a feeling she's going to be working hard for her money today. "Physical pain? Has your throat not healed?"

I shake my head again. "No, I mean … yes. My throat's better. Everything is back to normal … mostly … but that's not what I meant."

"Then tell me what you mean. You can do it."

She's smiling so kindly at me that I have to look away. Tears are falling from my eyes again and I grab another tissue from the box. "I mean … the pain in … here." And both of my hands fall to the centre of my chest.

Dr. Agard waits for me to stop crying until she talks again. "We need to talk through what this man did to you Donna. That's the only way to make that pain go away."

She still doesn't get it. The first time I saw Dr. Agard – that time when I came looking for Harvey before Jessica's vote – I felt talking to her was like talking to myself. And I liked her instantly. So, how doesn't she understand?

"It isn't about him anymore," I say with a sigh. "My heart is broken, but he didn't break it. I broke it."

"Were you in love with this man? His name was Mitchell, wasn't it? Do you think you were in love with Mitchell?"

"No," I say immediately. "I was never in love with him. I wanted to end things … I was only with him to …"

"To what?"

Well I guess this is the point of no return, so time to go over the cliff. "To get over …" my eyes flick up and meet hers "… over Harvey."

She rocks back in her chair again, her hands clasped around one knee as she silently nods acceptance of my revelation. I know that she already half-knew the story. Our story.

"Am I allowed to talk about him?"

A smile spread over her face and softens her frown. "Yes you are. He isn't my patient anymore. He hasn't been since …"

"… Since I went back to his desk?"

"I shouldn't have told you that," she says in a gentle whisper as she leans in over the glass coffee table.

I smile at her. "I won't tell if you don't."

"It's a deal." She shifts slightly in her chair and then she leans forward again. "You said you broke your own heart. Was that to do with Harvey?"

I inhale through my nose and start fidgeting with my tissue again, running the moist strands of paper from one finger to another. "Do you know why I left him to work for Louis?"

"I do."

"And why I went back?"

"No, we haven't had a session since then, but I couldn't discuss anything Harvey has told me in the past anyway. I can only discuss your own thoughts with you."

"Of course," I say and I feel my stomach knot. I didn't expect I'd get straight into talking about Harvey so soon. "I went back to him after I started dating Mitchell and he needed my help with Mike's case. I had decided to move on from him, finally, but I wasn't being fair to any of us. I led Mitchell on. I fooled him. I slept with him knowing I didn't love him, but I tried … I tried to have feelings for him, I even wanted to have feelings for him, but I felt nothing. That's how this all happened. I finished things with Mitchell and he didn't want me to. It was my fault and ever since Harvey and I …? Well we both feel responsible and this thing … this fear and this loathing and this … our world spinning out of control … is because of what I did."

"Okay, well first of all you're a smart woman and I know you know that what Mitchell did to you was unbelievably cruel and wicked and it was absolutely not your fault." She waits for me to respond and I not my head slightly. "I need you to take me back to that night. Harvey told me what this man did to you and he told me how he fought to get him off you."

"He saved my life," I rasp through my tears. "If he hadn't got to me when he did, I would … I think I would be dead."

"And how did he deal with the aftermath of this. Has he told you? Has he shared his thoughts with you?"

I smile as I blow my nose into another tissue. "He found it really difficult. It scared him just as much as it scared me and for those first two days he wouldn't …" I freeze as I remember his words. ' _I love you Donna. You know I love you. I will never –_ _ **never**_ _– let you go again_.' "It was as if he needed me to be near him. He held me while I cried. He promised to look after me. We even slept next to each other in the same bed. I needed that and so did he … I think … but …"

"But, what?" she asks tenderly, helping me to continue.

"This messed him up too. The next day he told me he was in love with me … finally after nearly thirteen frustrating, tormenting, fucking hellish years he finally told me and … and I pushed him away. And I don't know why. I'm angry with him and I hate myself and I don't know why it took something like this before he'd tell me how he felt. If he'd told me sooner … how can I even trust him? If he'd told me when I left his desk, then none of this would have happened!"

Dr. Agard's round face softens and I think she's starting to understand. "Do you really have to ask if Harvey Specter is telling the truth about this? He told you he loves you. How often has he said that in his life?" she asks with a knowing grin.

"Never," I reply mirroring her smile. "He's never said that to anyone. Only his father."

"So need I say more?"

Oh god, I can't even take this anymore. I lean forward and put my head in my hands. "I left him."

"When do you mean?"

"A few days ago." I sigh deeply and sit up straight again, running my hand through my hair to smooth it down. "He said something … and I freaked out in my head … and I left. I went to stay with Rachel and I've been there ever since, but that night he came straight over and he was in such a state. He had a panic attack again. It was like what he said earlier was true – he just couldn't let me go."

Dr. Agard looks sad at the news that Harvey had another attack. Last time my leaving him triggered issues to do with his mother, but this time? This time I'm sure it was all about us.

"You said he said something to you that made you leave him. What did he say?"

"He said he couldn't protect me because he was the one person I needed protection from. He thinks he'll hurt me more and after everything that's happened he can't bear it. So that's why I left, and when he came round we decided he'd give me time to get better. And he agree I stay with Rachel, I go back to work and I see you."

"But you didn't go back to work, yet?"

I shake my head. "I couldn't, but I'm going back tomorrow."

"Donna, you've gone through a terrible ordeal. Nobody would expect you to return as soon as tomorrow and personally I don't think you're ready."

"I need to go back. The firm is on its knees and Harvey? Well Rachel told me that all he can think about is getting Mike out of jail and I need to be there for him … and her … and then there's Louis …"

"Donna," says Dr. Agard abruptly and I freeze. This is the first time she hasn't spoken to me with anything other than empathy in her voice. "You must forget about other people – even Harvey."

"But, that's what I do. That's my job. I keep people together."

"How can you keep other people together when you're falling apart yourself?" Her voice resumes the familiar gentle and understanding tone and my eyes glaze over yet again. Jesus I'm sick of crying. It's a wonder my body hasn't dehydrated.

"I just want to go back to normal. I want myself back."

"Well in order to do that we're going to have to fix the pieces of you that are broken – and from where I'm sitting the biggest broken piece is Harvey Specter shaped. So, I'm wondering …" She runs her finger along her jawline and I can almost hear her brain ticking away. "What do you think the chances are of him agreeing to have therapy with you?"

"What? You mean him and me, in a room, talking about our feelings together. With another person?" Oh shit. Yep, that's a longshot.

"I'm not just another person. You both know me … and I hope trust me?" she asks with a spark in her eye.

"I'll try," I reply.

"And in the meantime?"

"I think I can return to work. I want to see everybody and get some normality and routine back in my life."

Dr. Agard nods her head in acceptance, but I can tell from her expression that she isn't 100% convinced. "I can't stop you and I'm not here to change your mind, but if you do this you're going to have to stop drinking."

I can feel my cheeks flush with embarrassment again. "I think I can stop," I say, but I'm still not sure I want to stop. Or rather, if I'm ready to stop. Drinking helps me get through the day.

"We can discuss it at our next appointment. Same time, Friday?" she asks.

"With Harvey?"

"If he'll agree."

"I think he will," I reply.

And that's how my first ever therapy session ended and I'll kid you not – it was much harder than I thought it would be.

X X X

So here I am.

It's 7.16 and I'm riding in the same metal box I've rode in every work day for the past decade.

I'm wearing a soft pink Givenchy dress that compliments my complexion and I hope doesn't clash with my hair too much. I'm wary of wearing warm colours – I couldn't even thing of doing orange and red is a no-no, but sometimes I find the perfect pink outfit and I think … well I hope … I manage to pull it off without looking like a giant peach.

The elevator whirrs through the floors and as we rise to the fiftieth I start to feel nauseous. I don't know what to expect. Rachel told me that Louis hired out the vacant office space to a bunch of douchebag traders, but other than that, will everything be the same?

My nerves start to get the better of me as I pass the thirtieth floor. I figure I've got twenty seconds so I dip my hand into my bag and pull out a small flask of scotch. I down the contents in one, expecting I'll be able to refill from Harvey's supplies throughout the day.

Then I feel the shame again. I'm drinking and I'm hiding it and I'm thinking of ways to get more … it's not even 7.30a.m.

I promised Dr. Agard that I could stop, but I already knew when the words came out of my mouth that it was an empty promise. Truth is, I don't know how to stop.


	12. Chapter 12 - Keeping Busy

THIRTEEN YEARS

Chapter Twelve – Keeping Busy

Nobody even notices I'm back until half past nine.

So much for wanting me back … or needing me here.

One of the only things that has been keeping me going is my position at Pearson Specter Litt. I'm the glue, remember? The emotional glue that keeps the wheels turning. I need to be needed, but our floor is still a ghost town. As empty as it was during those first few days when all the partners left. Nobody needs me really.

Two hours spent at my desk organising Harvey's diary and going through his messages … and? It hits me that this is it. If I'd died last week what would be on my gravestone? Nothing. For most of my adult life I've existed to make other people happy. One person in particular.

I fight the slow, steady rise of resentment. One part of my brain is telling me I've wasted my life. The other part reminds me of that day when everybody took shifts to look after me. Surely that means they care for me.

I'm discovered when I visit the bathroom. By Gretchen. She does a double take and I can see her black eyes scrutinise me. Will she guess? Can she see it?

"You're back Red," she declares, a huge smile flashing across her face.

"I am," I reply.

"How've you been?"

I raise an eyebrow and her face changes. The realisation. The second-guessing. The sympathy. God I hate the sympathy. She moves to the sink and washes her hands. "Everyone has missed you," she says to the sound of running water.

I fix my hair. "Really? It looks like everyone's too busy to notice. You're the first person I've seen all morning."

"Yeah, I think everyone's keeping busy. Trying to keep their minds off …" she trails off as she dries her hands on a paper towel.

"Off me?"

She turns to looks at me, her razor-sharp glare saying a million things. "Yes. And off Mike too. That's where Harvey's been every day since … he goes see Mike and he's working with Sean Cahill to get him out early."

My heart leaps. "Really? That would be wonderful. How are they going to do that?"

"Don't ask me. I'm just the woman whose been helping Louis Litt with his ridiculous love life."

"Louis has a love life?" I say with surprise. I'd love nothing more than to see Louis find happiness and I feel sad that I haven't been here for him. Helping Louis would have been my role. The old Donna's role. Jesus, look what I've become. I'm jealous of Gretchen now.

"Don't ask me 'bout that either! He comes to work each morning like a lovesick teenager. Rest of the time he's worrying he's going to lose this woman. In between that he's bothering me with ludicrous ways he can win her affection. If you ask me he's batting well out of his league, but don't repeat that whatever you do. The man's on edge 24/7."

My insides shudder at the thought and now I'm relieved I haven't been here. I don't think my nerves could have taken it.

"So, you still living with Rachel?"

"Oh … uhm … yeah. She's been a great help. I know she and Jessica are busy with their death row case, but I'm grateful that I don't have to be alone … especially at night."

"Does Rachel know?"

I narrow my eyes in confusion. "Know what?"

She turns around and fixes me with her black eyes. I feel like she is looking straight through me and as her face changes back to 'sympathetic' I feel exposed. And ashamed. "About the drinking. Maybe you shouldn't be back yet."

Oh my god, how? I inhale sharply. Can she smell it on my breath? Is it really that bad? "I'm fine. It's nothing."

"You don't look fine."

I raise my voice. "I said I'm fine."

Gretchen sighs and I'm ready for the lecture. It will be accompanied by an anecdote about her family. There'll definitely be a drunk or two in her history. I don't want to hear it. I turn to leave, but she grabs my arm. I swing around, prepared to pull away from her, but – damn – that look in her eyes. That tilt of her head. I look to my feet and I start to cry. And the next thing I feel is her arms around me, her stiff lacquered hair scratchy under my chin.

"I don't know what to do," I say between sobs. "I've tried … I can't …"

She shushes me and grips me tight. Shit, why does she have to be so motherly? Why does she have to be so right? "You shouldn't be here. You're still hurting. You need to go home and get some healing."

"I have nowhere else to go."

"What about your parents?"

"They're on a cruise. My brother and his boyfriend's treat – they've been promising them for years. Besides … I don't want them to know … what happened."

She releases me, but keeps hold of my arms, her face etched with concern. "You haven't told them about Mitchell?"

I shake my head. "I can't. My mom is … well she can get a bit hysterical. And my dad? I just … it would break him. I want to save them from knowing."

Gretchen nods her head slowly, deep, serious crevasses marking her brow. "What can I do to help?"

I walk to a sink, turn on the faucet and splash my face. "Can I get back to you on that?" I ask.

"Whatever you need, just ask." She walks towards the door, but then she hesitates. "Donna …?"

I can see her reflection in the mirror. I don't turn around. "Yes?"

"Harvey had a therapist. Last year … when …?"

"When I left him?" I see her nod her head. "I'm seeing her already. I have another session tomorrow."

She smiles with relief. "That's good news. She seemed to be good. She helped him a lot."

"She is good. And I know."

She starts to walk away again. "One more thing and I know this ain't my place but … you are loved. Here. Everyone cares so much for you. Especially Harvey."

And then she leaves me in peace. I wipe away new tears and I reapply my make-up before I head back.

X X X

I hear via Sean Cahill's secretary that Harvey will be away most of today.

I try not to mind. I know Mike needs his help just as much – if not more – than I do. I wonder if Mike knows about what happened. I hope he doesn't. He has enough to think about.

I find bits and pieces to busy me with until lunch. There are new people on our floor – people I don't know. Rachel mentioned they're financial traders and that they've been making Louis's life miserable ever since they got here. Let them start with me! The way I'm feeling right now I think I would enjoy putting a few jumped-up little shits in their place.

I don't have lunch again. Ever since the attack I've eaten when I felt like it – if I felt like it – and I know I've lost weight. I can feel my hip bones through my clothing and my face … I look older, drained … I daren't stand on the scales.

It takes me until 2.00p.m. to have another drink. I'm impressed by that. I kept out of Harvey's office since I arrived this morning because I knew I couldn't help myself if I were inches apart from his scotch cupboard. But one phone call from a pissed off client and I find myself in his office holding my empty flask. I know this is a pathetic image. I know it isn't me. I hate it more than you do.

"Donna there you are!"

Shit. Just what I need. Louis.

"What are you doing?"

I hide the flask behind me and hope the giant straight-from-the-bottle swig I've just taken isn't lingering on my lips. "Just tidying up, Louis," I say nervously.

His face changes. The spark in his eyes at seeing me goes. He looks suspicious. "I just got in. Gretchen told me you were back."

"And here I am."

"How are you?"

"I'm fine Louis. Really. I'm fine."

"You don't look fine."

"Louis …" I raise my voice slightly. It's a warning.

"I'm sorry Donna, it's just I've been worried about you. We all have." He takes a step forward and I back up against Harvey's desk.

"Well there's no need. Honestly, Louis."

His eyes narrow warily. "What are you hiding?"

"Hiding? Nothing, why?"

He gulps audibly. "Yes you are. What's behind your back?"

He's pissing me off now. Really pissing me off. "Louis. I'm not hiding anything … look, I know you care about me, but I _**really**_ need you to go away." He takes a step back, his expression full of hurt and I feel guilty so I lower my voice. "Please just go, Louis."

There's a moment's silence and I think he's going to do as I ask. I hope he is. He turns to the door, but then he turns back and walks determinedly around the room, ducking behind me.

"Louis! Get the hell away from me now!"

He stops dead when he sees. I don't move. I don't look at him.

"What? What are you doing?"

"I told you to leave, Louis … why didn't you …" my voice breaks as I talk as yet more shame engulfs me.

Louis reaches behind me and I'm suddenly overcome with rage. I move to bat his hand out of the way but I miss and knock over the flask. It tips onto Harvey's desk, the scotch spilling out and running in a river towards a pile of documents. "Fuck! Shit and hell Louis. Look what you've done!"

He stands motionless. His face full of horror as he watches me desperately mop up the alcohol with some tissues. "Donna … why?"

I don't answer him. I'm too busy firefighting. Harvey hates anything messing up his desk. That's all I can think about.

And then my stomach crashes through the floor.

I hear his voice. It gets louder and louder. He's on his cell. Names I don't recognise are barked into the air 'William Sutter,' 'Frank Gallo,' 'Kevin Miller'. He's angry about something. His voice is laden with urgency and I panic. There's no time …

He marches through the door and freezes when he sees us, but he doesn't look at his desk. "Donna, you're back," he says with a smile that lights up the room.

I stop mopping and turn to face him. I can't smile back. I'm frozen to the spot, exchanging a pleading look with Louis.

Harvey notices and looks between us. "What's going on?" he asks, his voice strained with concern.

Louis steps forward tentatively. "I'm sorry Harvey. It was me. I knocked over one of your scotch bottles … I'm really sorry. I'll replace it."

Harvey's eyes narrow as he looks at the scene. I look to my feet, my hands full of dripping wet tissues. "It's okay Louis. Just leave us please," I say.

Louis looks at me with eyes that are moments away from spilling a waterfall of tears. And then he leaves.

And we're alone.

And nothing is said for what seems like minutes. Confusion. Frustration. Despair. Whatever we're both feeling, whatever we both want to say, the word hang in the air unspoken until I can't take it anymore.

"I'm sorry Harvey," I gasp into the silence. "It wasn't Louis … it was me …"

"It's just scotch, Donna. It doesn't matter," he says gently.

"You don't understand."

He looks around the room, his eyes scanning the open cupboard, the bottle, the tipped-up flask that he knows isn't his. "Tell me what happened," he says in a voice that is barely a whisper.

My eyes are covered in a veil of water, but I daren't blink. I can't cry. Not again. I look up at him and he tilts his head to show he's waiting and he's listening … and he loves me. "I … I need your help, Harvey …"

And I fall back against his desk, turning my head away from him so he can't see me.

And then he's wrapping his arms around me and he's making soft shushes into my ear as I cry. As I cry again. God, I'm sick of this. My head is pounding and I'm dizzy and I need to eat and I need painkillers and … I need a drink.

"Donna, please. I'm so worried about you … this is killing me. What can I do?" His voice cracks as he talks and I wish I could stop. I don't want to hurt him anymore.

"I can't stop it Harvey. I promised Dr. Agard. I lied to Rachel, to Louis, to Gretchen. I'm just really really scared because I can't stop. I don't know how."

"What? You can't stop what?"

He looks lost and confused and I thought he had realised. "I can't stop drinking."

He grips me tighter as the words leave my body, his chin nuzzling the top of my head, his arms wrapped around my body. My face rests on the top of his chest and I can feel him sigh. "When did start?"

"Right away. Just after it happened. It blocked out the pain to begin with. It soothed my throat from the attack. Then when I left you … I think I've hidden it from Rachel, but …" I move my face and notice I'm getting mascara on his shirt. I jerk out of his hold. "Your shirt!"

"It doesn't matter," he says without flinching. "Nothing matters. Only you." He reaches for me again and gently pushes my hair out of my face.

"I'm sorry, Harvey."

"You have nothing to be sorry about."

"I … this isn't me. You need me – the real me."

"The only thing I need is for you to get better."

I know he means it. I step forward and reach for his hand, holding him securely. Enjoying the feel of his skin against mine. His chest contracts as he heaves out another sigh. "I have a request and … uhm … you may not like it."

"Oh?" he asks. His back stiffens.

"Dr. Agard suggested you join me in my therapy sessions. Starting tomorrow." He gulps and I feel his hand loosen in my grip. My stomach falls flat. I knew he'd hate the idea.

"If Dr. Agard thinks it will help you I'll be there. What time tomorrow?"

"Ten. Is that okay."

"There's a parole hearing tomorrow. A guy whose been giving Mike some trouble inside. We're trying to get him out the picture. I don't want you to worry about it."

"What time is the meeting?"

"First thing. Nine a.m."

"Okay. Well I'm sure we can change my therapy to the afternoon."

"No, I don't want you to do that. It's too important. You're the most important thing …" his voice cracks again and I give his hand a light squeeze.

"Mike is important too. It won't take much to move the appointment to the afternoon." He nods sadly. "Harvey it doesn't mean I'm playing second fiddle to Mike. I know I'm not. This is just diary-setting – organisation. What I'm good at, remember? Well, what I used to be good at."

"I … god … I wish I could go back in time."

"Me too."

"Back to this office all of those months ago, after … when you asked me how I loved you. Do you remember?"

I nod my head sadly. That was the week I decided to leave Harvey to work for Louis. It was before I met Mitchell. Before I needed to block out and forget what happened between us. "It doesn't matter now. We're where we are. This is the hand fate has dealt us."

"I know. But if I could go back I would have told you the truth."

My stomach flutters and I inhale sharply to steady my breathing. "I know, Harvey. But that was before you had therapy. I understand."

"Why?" he says, his voice raised. We're still holding hands. He pulls me closer. "I know this is all my fault. Everything … you, Mike, the firm. Everything. If I'd fucking manned up and told you the truth back then you wouldn't have ended up with him. I should have told you I was in love with you, but … I …"

I release his hands and move forward to cup his face. "But you didn't know how you felt and you weren't ready. I know … I know." I lean forward and brush my lips on his. I don't care that they're sticky. I don't care that my breath smells of alcohol. I need him and he needs me and he kisses me back. "I know" I whisper against his mouth as I stroke his cheek.

And then I release him.

"You need to get back to work. This thing with Mike … you have to pull it off for him and Rachel and I know you can do it. Please … please don't worry about me."

He nods his head with resignation. "Maybe you should take some more time."

"No. I can't Harvey. Being at Rachel's place on my own is just making things worse. I'd rather be here. I'd rather be busy."

"It helps doesn't it? Keeps your mind off things."

"Absolutely," I say with a faint smile. "Give me a mountain of work. Pile it on me. I need something to do."

"Okay," he says and he beams the most amazing smile and I feel myself melt. Maybe he can fix me after all.

I take a few steps backwards, then I spin around and start walking to my desk.

"Donna," he calls after me.

I stop in the doorway and turn around.

"I love you."

I bite on my bottom lip. "I know … and I love you too."


	13. Chapter 13 - In Therapy

**THIRTEEN YEARS**

 **Chapter Thirteen – In Therapy**

He must have texted me fifteen times in the last 24 hours. Most of the texts were of the 'passing the day' sort – general chit-chat, updates about Mike – but they all had a palpable undercurrent of 'just checking up'. Probably to make sure I'm not drinking myself into a coma.

I'm trying not to get down about it, really I am. If I think too hard about how my life has been turned upside down, then the dread that is constantly lying in the pit of my stomach will eventually engulf me.

On a more positive note …

I haven't had a drink in 24 hours. I want one, but I've resisted. I've done it. Yay, me!

I was worried for a while that I'd turn into one of those women with 'tragic pasts' that you see huddled in circles at AA meetings on TV soaps. Picture it: Me, waiting my turn to speak about how long I've been sober and what challenges I've faced whilst trying to fend off my overly encouraging sponsor. I can taste the bitterness of the community centre coffee and the chemical after-taste from the polystyrene cup my nerves would force my fingers to pick apart. I hate polystyrene.

I don't want to be sitting in that circle almost as much as I don't want to be sitting in Dr. Agard's bright and breezy lounge right now. But here I sit with a cup of coffee in my hand. The container is bone china as opposed to polystyrene, but the taste of the caffeine is still bitter. I would have imagined she'd have much better taste in coffee.

"Harvey messaged to say he's running late – twenty minutes or so." My insides tie themselves in knots. I don't know why I'm feeling so nervous. I've been here before and I've been through Dr. Agard's interrogations before.

She smiles, sits down opposite me and crosses her legs, folding her hands around her knee. "So how have you been?" She dips her head sympathetically again and I shudder.

"Good," I say confidently. "I haven't had … well, I know this will sound like nothing, but … I haven't had a drink since yesterday morning."

"Wow, Donna that's brilliant. You must be very pleased with yourself."

"I am," I say although it seems like such a small thing. "It's been hard, but I was determined and … well I hope this is it."

"What made you stop do you think?"

"Shame." I feel my cheeks flush as soon as I utter the word. "And sadness. I don't like who I've become."

She leans forward slightly and dips her head again. I want to tell her to stop looking at me like that. It isn't helping. "That's why you're here, Donna. It's only been a few weeks since all of this happened. What you've been through would be hugely traumatic for any woman. It's perfectly normal for people who've experienced something distressing to behave out of character. You're coping very well considering."

I laugh inwardly. "Am I?"

The doorbell rings then – just as another flash of sympathy bounces off Agard's face. I squirm in my seat, readjusting my dress and placing my cup down on the coffee table. I hear hushed voices – greetings – at the doorway. Dr. Agard thanks Harvey for coming. Then the door closes and my stomach falls flat. I move around again, trying desperately to get comfortable.

They enter the room together and I catch Harvey's eye. He shoots me a wink. I love when he does that. I smile back at him and the dread in the pit of my stomach transforms into butterflies. He sits down next to me, his leg brushing lightly against mine, and the butterflies take flight.

"I was just talking to Donna about the last couple of days, Harvey."

He nods silently, his jaw clenched. I know he's feeling awkward. If Harvey put his mind to it I'm sure he could write a list of a thousand things he'd prefer to be doing than sitting here talking about our relationship. Actually, I think I might be able to think of a thousand more preferable things to do too.

Dr. Agard senses our discomfort. "Okay, look, I know this is going to be difficult for both of you, but you know how this works. You talk, we work things out and you leave me a couple of hours from now feeling a hell of a lot better."

I hear Harvey sigh and instinctively I reach for his hand. Jesus, when did touching him become an 'instinct' after a decade of making sure I didn't touch him? He responds by squeezing my hand slightly, then holding on tight. Agard notices and her expression lifts. Goodbye sympathetic therapist, hello proud parent.

"So who wants to start?"

Silence.

Dr. Agard looks between both of us. We're sitting close together holding each other's hand, supporting one another, but we're both looking at our feet. We're willing the show to start, but we're both refusing to take the star part. She clears her throat. "Donna you were just telling me that you haven't had a drink in the last twenty-four hours."

Harvey lifts his head and a huge, beaming smile spreads across his face. "Really? Donna that's amazing. I'm so proud of you."

He grips my hand tight and I thank him but I feel like a fraud. Why am I being applauded for not doing something I should never have done in the first place?

"How did you feel when you found out about Donna's drinking, Harvey?"

Jesus – nothing like getting straight in with the difficult questions. I brace myself for the humiliation, but he pulls my hand into his lap and remains silent for a few moments. His eyes disappear under a heavy frown and I know he's searching for the right words, his jaw muscles pulsating as he processes his thoughts. This could be painful. Harvey Specter and verbally communicated emotional responses are far from a match made in heaven.

"I was devastated." I look at him, but he doesn't meet my gaze. "I felt responsible and I felt like I'd lost control. I can't seem to do anything to help her … and I promised …" His voice gets lost in his throat as his sentence trails into silence. He clears his throat. "I promised Donna a year or so ago – before she left me to work for Louis – that I would never let anything bad happen to her, but … I failed. I've failed over and over again and that's not me." He inhales a huge breath before he continues. "I never fail. Not ever."

"What sparked that promise, Harvey?"

"Donna was in trouble." He stops and he turns to me. "Are you okay with me talking about this?"

I smile and give his hand another squeeze. "Of course I am."

"Okay, but this is privilege information. I need that on record."

Dr. Agard's eyes widen. "Of course it is, Harvey. Every word you speak in this room is confidential."

He nods his head. "Okay then. The facts were that Donna illegally entered the premises of a company we were suing and she obtained some documents. The DA hates me – you know how it is – I piss people off. Anyway, he drew up a bullshit charge of intent to commit fraud to come after me and Donna almost went to prison. I did everything I could to make it go away."

Dr. Agard doesn't need to ask for any further details. She knows Harvey. She can imagine exactly how he 'made it go away'. "And what was that time like for you, Donna? This was the catalyst for you leaving to work for Louis, right?"

"Yes it was and it was probably one of the worst times of my life. I was petrified. I thought I was going to go to prison, but at the same time I knew Harvey would do everything he could to fix it for me. I … uhm … but I was frustrated. It was like he completely shut me off …"

"Speak to him," interrupts Dr. Agard. "He's right next to you. Don't talk to me, talk to him."

This is going to be weird. How the hell did Harvey get through therapy doing shit like this? "You shut me off and I was frustrated. I told you how scared I was and you …"

"I didn't offer you any emotional support. I know. I was a dick." We both smile. Funny how time has healed and how the events of the last fortnight have made that episode pale into insignificance.

"I thought you didn't care about me."

"What? How?" He lets go of my hand and I miss the warmth of his touch immediately. "Donna, how could you even think that?"

"Because I was terrified, Harvey, and you yelled at me and you were angry with me."

His skin reddens and he sucks in his cheeks. "Don't you get it? I wasn't angry with you because of what you'd done. I was angry – furious – livid – because you're everything to me and I was petrified I might not be able to save you. I couldn't bear the thought … Donna we've talked about this and … you know why I behaved the way I did. I'm sorry, but it's just the way I am. I needed to focus everything I had on getting you out of that bullshit charge. That's how I deal with things – I can only win if I'm left alone to do what I do."

"So what happened next?" asks Dr. Agard. "Is this why you left Harvey for Louis?"

I look up in surprise. "You don't know why I left him?" I ask incredulously. Agard shakes her head. "After my case was dropped we were having dinner at my apartment. Things … uhm …" Shit, I'm lost for words! This is embarrassing. How the hell do I say it?

Harvey takes over for me. "Something almost happened between us, but I panicked and I ran away, right?" He grins guiltily as he uses the exact words which I used when I accused him. I'm all done with that episode in my life now so I should be able to talk openly about it, but the hurt is still there.

"I see," says Dr. Agard and I still can't believe she didn't know about all this. What the hell did they talk about during therapy? "So … that's why you made the decision to leave."

"Not exactly. Just before he left he told me that I knew he loved me. Then the next day when I wanted to talk about what happened he shut me down … again. He said he told me he loved me to make me feel better." Dr. Agard gulps and grimaces at Harvey. He hangs his head. "His walls went up and he refused to tell me 'how' he loved me. That's why I left. I just couldn't deal with his inability to be true to his feelings anymore. He had a stranglehold on my life and I needed to free myself."

"So Harvey, tell me … do you know why you said that to Donna? Do you know why you backtracked?" asks Dr. Agard.

"I told her I loved her because I do love her. I didn't plan it … and if I'm honest, I was surprised that I said it. The words just tumbled out of my mouth and … okay I wished back then that I hadn't said it, but now I'm glad I did. Donna, you know how I feel about you and you know why I couldn't take that step back then. I wanted to, but I was … Donna, I was scared because I thought … I knew I'd be terrible for you. You deserve better. I screw up relationships."

Dr. Agard nods in acknowledgement. "And now, Harvey?" she asks softly. "After all these months and after the time you've spent with me. How do you feel about yourself now?"

He looks to the floor again, his feet gently dipping into the plush carpet as he rocks his heels backwards and forwards. "I feel completely and utterly responsible for what happened to Donna. If I hadn't been such an asshole she wouldn't have ended up with that … that fucking bastard who … Jesus. I'm sorry for my language, but … this is hard. Donna, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry because all of this is my fault. You didn't deserve any of this … and … I wish I could have been the person you needed."

"Oh Harvey it isn't your fault." I take his hand again and he allows me to hold him. His eyes are glassy and his cheek muscles strain as he bites down to keep his emotions in check. "I chose to be with Mitchell. I let it happen. I should never have left you …"

Dr. Agard interjects as both of our trains of thought chug along the tracks into silence yet again. "You both seem to be carrying a hell of a lot of guilt on your shoulders. I think it's time we talk about Mitchell. Donna, do you think you can start?"

I nod my head and lock my fingers into Harvey's. I feel him pull me in closer. "I'd known him for some time. He was a theatre producer and I was friends with his ex-wife. He was funny and kind and I liked him, but … well I knew I wasn't in love with him. I thought if I tried, then maybe … but I knew." I turn to Harvey, my vision starting to blur with tears. "You need to know that I wanted to love Mitchell. I wanted to have a life with him … with anybody. I wanted to be loved, but I knew he wasn't the one for me. I was in love with you … and you couldn't love me back … so that's why I planned to leave the city. It wasn't your fault Harvey and it wasn't mine either. I just couldn't stop my heart from wanting you."

He breaks down then. Just for a moment. Maybe if I'd blinked I'd have missed it. His body shudders and his breathing breaks from his body in short gasps. One tear escapes and he bats it away quickly before taking a deep breath and reclaiming control. "I wish I hadn't been such a fucking coward."

"What's done is done."

"No, it isn't done," he says angrily. "I still haven't fixed this. I've made things worse."

Dr. Agard asks Harvey if he'd like a drink. She senses his composure is faltering. He asks for a glass of water and she leaves the room for a moment.

"Are you okay?" I whisper when we're alone. He nods. "You're brave for doing this. Thank you."

"It's the absolute least I can do, Donna. I should have done far more than this and far sooner."

I squeeze his hand, enjoying the way his warm skin feels under my fingertips. "You've done more than enough, Harvey. You have to stop blaming yourself."

Dr. Agard arrives with two glasses of water in her hands, passing one to each of us. She sits down in her armchair again. Harvey drinks half the water, then holds the glass in his hands. The glass shakes as his hands tremble.

"Let's get back to Mitchell. What triggered this terrible attack?"

"It all started a few days before. I was going to break things off with him, but for some reason … and I was stupid … and I can't believe I'm talking about this …"

Am I really just about to talk about how I had sex – repeatedly – with a man I didn't love?

"Take your time," says Dr. Agard.

I take a sip of water, then place the glass down on the coffee table. "He'd just gotten back from a tour with his theatre group. We had been out and he came back to my place. I knew how the night would end … I would sleep with him … even though I didn't want to."

I say the last few words in a whisper and I feel Harvey shift uncomfortably next to me. The shame is overwhelming. I assumed my un-Donna-ness started after the attack, but it didn't. It started long before. When did I lose my confidence, my self-esteem and my pride?

"I was going to break up with him, but somehow I found myself in my bedroom." I falter at the memory, my eyes stinging with hot, angry tears.

"Take your time," says Dr. Agard. Harvey says nothing but I can feel the heat from his body burn my cheeks.

"He was hurting me …" I say and I curse the tears which start to fall. "… he was so strong and …" my voice cracks and I draw in a huge breath to calm myself down.

"Does she have to do this?" snaps Harvey. "Donna, you don't have to talk about this."

"I do have to."

"Donna … I don't think …"

"What is it, Harvey?" asks Dr. Agard.

"I can't listen … I can't …"

Dr. Agard's posture stiffens. "You have to Harvey. You want to help Donna, don't you? Well you won't be able to unless you listen and understand what she's been through."

"I know what she's been through, Goddamnit!"

All it needs is a change in tone and a tilt of the therapist's head. "Harvey."

He quietens down and grabs for my hand again, pulling it into his lap. "I'm sorry," he says.

"No, I'm sorry. I know how you're feeling Harvey and I feel ashamed because I let him do this to me. He was so … so forceful … and I was scared. I swear I didn't know why … and I swear it hadn't happened before. I would never have let him do it twice."

"What did he do, Donna?" asks Dr. Agard.

I look into Harvey's eyes and wish I could take the pain away. "He tied me to his bed. He had a rope and he bound my wrists … it all happened so quickly. I felt sick. The pain was unbearable. He tied the rope so tightly it tore my skin … I had burns from the rope … and he … he bit me …" I speak through soft sobs, my body trembling with sadness and regret. "I had to tell him to get off me five times. I had to scream … I … I told him to go and he did, but the next day he wouldn't leave me alone. Text messages telling me he was sorry one minute, then calling me a bitch the next. I felt so stupid. How didn't I see who he was?"

"It wasn't your fault," says Harvey.

"Yes it was. I should never have been with him. You know that, Harvey. So does everyone," I grab a tissue from the little cube-shaped box on the coffee table, dab at my eyes then blow my nose. I'm very thankful I had the foresight to apply waterproof mascara this morning. "I couldn't hide what he'd done. One by one everybody saw the marks he left. I told Rachel and Louis and then I told Harvey. I felt so stupid and ashamed of myself. I didn't know what to do … I just wanted to forget, but that night Mitchell turned up at my apartment. I wouldn't let him in, of course. I called Harvey straight away, but he broke my door down … and that's when it happened."

Dr. Agard switches from me to Harvey. "Run me through when you got that call Harvey. What were your thoughts?"

"I had to get to her. I wanted her to stay with me that night and I had already asked for his address so I could tell him … oh, what's the point of lying? Everybody knows! … I asked Donna for his address so I could go round and beat the living daylights out of him. She wouldn't give it to me because she knew." I nod and touch his arm, letting him know he's right. "The journey to Donna's place was crazy. I couldn't think straight, I was going to tear him apart, send him on his way and make him leave her alone. But when I got there and I saw her door had been forced open … I don't know … it was like I started operating purely on instinct. I didn't know what to expect when I went in, but when I saw him … he had her up against the wall … he was holding her by her neck and … Jesus she was so pale and her eyes were dead already … shit … I …" He stops talking and reaches for the water again, his hand shaking as he drinks. Dr. Agard watches him with deep concern written in her bright blue eyes. He clears his throat and begins again. "I have never felt like that before in my life. I would have killed him. Jesus Christ when I saw what he was doing …" My stomach knots as I listen to him struggle to find the words, and I feel nauseous. I try to breathe deeply and with a steady rhythm. "I got him off her straight away … didn't even take much … then I just went for him. I kept hitting him over and over again. I saw her lying on the floor fighting to breathe and all I could think about was hurting him. Hurting him more than he'd hurt Donna. And if that meant killing him, then I would have done it. I wouldn't have stopped until he was dead, but then the police arrived."

"I need some air." I stand quickly and nearly crash to the floor as the nausea takes hold. Harvey and Dr. Agard both take to their feet, both of them surprised by my sudden outburst. I leave the room, not knowing where I'm going. I aim for the front door, but pass the bathroom instead and double back. I run inside, bolt the door and throw up in the toilet.

I'm in there for less than a minute when I hear a knock. "Donna, are you okay?" comes Harvey's voice from the other side of the door. Then, "just give her a few minutes, Harvey," says Dr. Agard.

God I feel stupid. What the hell happened in there? How after all this time am I still finding this so hard? But has it been a long time? I remind myself that it's only been two weeks. Some people take years to get over trauma. They sink into depression, they become alcoholics and they … shit! Shut up stupid goddamn brain!

I splash water on my face and pour some water into a cup, gargling around my mouth to erase the taste of vomit. Then I wait a few more minutes before returning.

I re-enter Dr. Agard's sitting room and before either of them can ask me how I'm feeling, I tell them. "Don't worry, I'm fine," I say dismissively with a fake smile before I sit back down.

"Do you feel able to continue, Donna?" asks Dr. Agard.

"Yeah, sure, I just … it's still hard to think about that night, that's all."

"That's why we're here. What happened to you was one of the worst things that could ever happen to a woman. You were physically and emotionally hurt by someone you trusted – someone you liked and had known for years. You have to give yourself time to heal."

I nod my head. "I know, I'm just impatient. I want to get over this now and I've been hating myself ever since it happened. The nightmares … the neediness … the self-loathing … that's not me. None of this is me. I want it all to go away."

"Then let me help you," interrupts Harvey suddenly. "I've been trying to help you right from the beginning, but you … Jesus, Donna, I know this is selfish of me, but I need you to let me help you."

Dr. Agard watches our interactions closely, gently prompting each of us to reveal what we want. She asks what happened immediately after the attack. "I stayed with Harvey to begin with. I needed him. I couldn't sleep unless he was there … holding me … but … that led to …"

We both clam up and Dr. Agard picks up the conversation without missing a heartbeat. "Harvey, can you help Donna out?"

He holds my hand and I grasp tightly for security. Then he continues for me. "I knew Donna needed me and I wanted to be there for her. But I didn't want a physical need to develop into something else. It just didn't seem right." He turns to me and waits patiently for me to meet his gaze. Then he brushes a few stray hairs off my face. "I hurt you by doing that, didn't I?"

"I should never have tried to go down that road, Harvey. You were right. It wasn't the right time … I just needed to be close to you and I wanted you to erase what he had done by … by loving me."

"I do love you."

"I know you do, but Harvey … when you walked out of your bedroom when I needed you, it was like before. It was like you refusing to acknowledge your feelings again. And then when you said you couldn't protect me because you were the person I needed protection from I just … I fell to pieces all over again. I thought you were pushing me away. You told me you'd never let me go ever again, but you did. You let me go to Rachel's."

"I didn't! I came over that night and asked you to come back. I had a panic attack when you left. I couldn't bare that you were the other side of the city when I needed to see you … feel you … hold you … this past week I would have done anything to get you back, but I thought you wanted space. I didn't know what to do, Donna, but I know how I feel and I know I want to help you get better. And I know I love you. And I know I'm ready. I can do this. I want to do this."

"What are you asking me Harvey?"

"Come back to my apartment. Let me be the person you want me to be."

Tension builds in my chest and I feel like I'm going to be sick again. Or have a heart attack. I know he's serious and I know he loves me, but I can't shake the fear. "Why now, Harvey?"

"What do you mean?"

"You told me once that you didn't pity me, but I'm not so sure. Why did it take Mitchell to half-kill me before you said and did all of this? Are you saying it because you feel sorry for me? Because I nearly died?"

"What? No? I was getting closer and closer to this point in my life. Ever since you left the first time and I started to have panic attacks, I've been getting here. Okay, maybe what happened to you forced me to act at this moment, but so what? So what if I needed a wake-up call? You're who I want Donna. I want to have a relationship with you. You're the only person in my entire life who has ever understood me and the only person who doesn't demand I change. But much more than that is I love you. All of you. I love everything about you. Just please come back to me …"

An uneasy silence hangs in the air. Words unsaid on all of our lips.

"Donna, what are you thinking?" asks Dr. Agard. How strange it is to have another person present during this moment. It's like she's the 'angel' half of my brain. Fighting against the pitchfork wielding part of my brain which is telling me that he doesn't mean it, he doesn't know what he wants and he'll hurt me. Again. Over and over again.

But I love him.

It's always been him.

"Okay, I'll come back on two conditions. One – we talk. We talk about everything and anything, but mostly we talk about our feelings. I can't be with a closed book, Harvey. I don't care if you don't like sharing. You have to share with me, or we won't work."

He nods his head sheepishly. "Easy," he says with a smirk. "What's number two?"

"We have separate rooms. You were right, this isn't the right time for anything more. We shouldn't complicate things."

"Okay. That's fine with me. One step at a time."

Dr. Agard folds her arms and leans back in her chair. "I must say, you've both made excellent progress here today. Better than I expected. We need to keep this up. How about we meet again in another week and see how we're doing?"

Harvey smiles at her. "Sounds good to me. I might even do role play next time."

I narrow my eyes in confusion. "Role play?"

"Just something that Dr. Agard and I disagree on."

"Well, we don't disagree on everything, Harvey," says Dr. Agard.

"Oh?"

"No, we don't disagree on the fact you've come a long way. A very long way," she stands and starts walking to her door, signalling the end of our session. We both stand to follow her. "And I think that you're ready too." She unlocks her front door and Harvey takes my hand, leading me out into the street. "Same time next Friday … oh, and Donna?"

I stop and our eyes lock. I know what she's thinking.

"I think Harvey finally knows what he's been missing, don't you?"

We share a look of quiet resolve – one that makes Harvey's brow crinkle.

And then we go back to Rachel's to pack up my things.


	14. Chapter 14 - Separate Beds

**THIRTEEN YEARS**

 **Chapter Fourteen – Separate Beds**

It worked out great for a few days.

I slept on a convertible chair-bed in Harvey's spare room. He wanted to give me his bed, but I declined. I feel guilty enough as it is – intruding on his life – I couldn't bear the thought of taking his bed from him too.

Despite our apartment-share, our lives continue as normal. We wake up, put in a fifteen hour shift at Pearson Specter Litt, come home and have dinner, then we go to our separate rooms. It's been fine and I genuinely feel like I'm on the mend. I haven't had a drink in a week now – not one! I've wanted one … or two … but I've resisted – temporarily resisted – and that makes me feel great.

But, as good as living here has been, tonight feels different.

Harvey came home later than usual. I know he's been working tirelessly to get Mike out of prison. Sean Cahill has been at the office for meeting after meeting and the stress is showing. He isn't his usual self … he's on edge, he's morose, he's pretending nothing is the matter, but somehow he forgets that I can read him like a book. I know I haven't been his usual 'Donna' for a while now, but I'm coming back slowly and I never truly lost my 'Donna powers'.

"What is it Harvey?" I ask as he pushes the plate of half-picked food across the table and grimaces.

"Hmm?" he asks absently. "Oh, you know … just Danbury. I've been there all day today. Every time I get closer to getting Mike out of that shithole something happens to rewind the work we've done and reset the clock to zero."

"Anything I can do?"

He smiles as he hangs his head. "No, we'll get there. I don't want you to worry about this … you've enough to think about."

I tilt my head to the side and wait for his gaze to meet mine. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Donna," he says, stretching out my name for effect.

I feel something rise within me. Or am I feeling something sink? I watch him and I don't know what he's thinking, or what he's hiding. I stand up and start clearing our plates away.

I walk to the kitchen and he's behind me in seconds. "Here, let me get those," he says.

"Harvey I can manage to put the dishes in the dish washer. Please, give me some space here. I'm starting to feel …" I pause as I take in his expression – bewilderment. "… okay, I'm feeling a little bit suffocated."

"I'm sorry. What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to be normal."

"I am being normal … I just …"

"What?"

"It's nothing."

"You're 'nothing' isn't you acting 'normal'!" I say, raising my voice enough to make him draw in a sharp breath. "I know there's something you're not telling me. Just … just don't … I want you to talk to me like you always talked to me. Is it about the firm?" He shakes his head and clenches his jaw. "Well what? … Is it Mike?"

He's refusing to look at me now. And he still isn't talking. And it's really starting to piss me off! I slam the dishes into the dish washer while he stands looking at me, but saying nothing. Like he's a plank of wood.

When I'm done, I choke down my rage and march to the spare bedroom, but he grabs my hand …

… "Wait."

I snatch my hand back and turn to face him.

"I'm sorry. I just don't know how to tell you …" he stammers.

His expression shifts. He turns his face to the floor and as maddening as his behaviour is, my rage is morphing into concern. I feel my chest burn and my blood charge around my body as my pulse races. "What is it, Harvey?" I ask softly.

He leads me over to his sofa and we sit down next to each other. He takes hold of my hand and he's still facing the floor and my stomach is still rolling with dread. "I was at Danbury all day but it wasn't all to do with Mike. We sorted that early on … he should be getting out tomorrow or maybe the next day, but something else happened …"

My mind races but I can't think of any possible non-Mike related situations Harvey could be involved in at Danbury. Unless … "Is this to do with Gallo? I was there when you put him away, Harvey. I know what he is. Have you done something bad to get Mike out?"

He bows his head again and I can see his jaw clench. "No, it isn't that."

"Then what? Harvey you're starting to scare me here." I feel his grip on my hand tighten and I'm lost. I can't think what else it could be.

"I saw Mitchell."

I feel a chill shoot down my spine when I hear his name. I've spent the last couple of weeks trying to block everything about Mitchell out, but every time it's brought back to me I feel a chill. Then nausea. Then fear grips my throat and I can't speak.

"Are you okay?" asks Harvey as he places his arm around me.

I inhale deeply. I don't want to feel like this anymore. It's over and Mitchell is in jail – in Danbury – but how is he in there? I nod my head to signal I'm fine, but my brain starts whirring. Danbury is a low security prison – and Mitchell hasn't been convicted yet anyway. Shouldn't he be with suspects awaiting trial? "What happened?" I ask. I prepare for the worst.

Harvey's body stiffens and his jaw clenches so tightly that it dimples. "I lost it. I went for him and three guards, plus Mike, had to pull me off. They put me in solitary until the warden could see me."

I raise my eyebrows. "They put you in solitary? Like, you mean, in a jail kind of solitary?"

He looks embarrassed. "Yes, but I guess they had to. Jesus, Donna if they hadn't I don't know what I would have done."

"Okay … I guess I understand why you did that. I don't agree, but I understand."

I see a small smile tug at the corners of his mouth and his eyes relax. "I'm sorry. I couldn't believe he was in there with Mike after what he did to you. I just saw red … I couldn't think straight."

"Did Mike know who he was?"

"No. Mike had been hanging out with him for a few days … Mitchell had said he was inside for embezzlement. Mike was pissed when I told him who he was, but later tonight – when they let me out of solitary – I went to see him. Shit, he's in a bad way, Donna. Mitchell had been asking all of these questions to get to know Mike and Mike had talked to him unwittingly about us … about you."

My stomach plunges to my feet. "What …?"

"He didn't know. He said he thought Mitchell was a great guy because he was showing so much interest in his life. Mike said he was fascinated by you, laughing at stories he told him … he even wanted him to describe what you looked like. Mike didn't have a clue, Donna. You know how smart he is, but he didn't have a clue. Now, I'm so goddamn worried he'll do something between tonight and tomorrow that will get his discharge papers revoked. He should be out tomorrow. Cahill has signed off on the deal with his roommate, but I can't go over there and see things through for him. I'm barred from going back to Danbury."

I shake out of Harvey's hold and shoot to my feet. Harvey stands too, but I shrug him away. "This is all my fault."

"What? Donna, you can't think like that. Of course it isn't your fault."

I walk over to the window and gaze out over the dazzling Manhattan skyline, the lights burning into my skull. "Harvey, if something to do with Mitchell stops Mike getting out of prison I won't be able to live with myself. What would I say to Rachel? What … ? What would I say to Mike?"

He takes hold of my forearms as tears spring from my eyes and roll down my cheeks. "This isn't your fault. None of this is your fault, do you hear me? None. This is _his_ fault. It's my fault. And if Mike does something then it's goddamn Mike's fault, but it isn't yours. It has never ever been your fault."

I nod slowly and try to shake off the tears. He cups my face and strokes some of the damp away with his thumb.

"I'm going to get Louis to go down there tomorrow in my place. I trust him. He'll see this through for me."

"Can we ask him now … I mean, what if Mike does something now?"

"The warden assured me he'll try to keep them apart. I'm sure I'm worrying for nothing."

He lets go of me and I feel my body deflate. It's been a week since I've felt like this – helpless, needy, frightened – I need him to keep holding me, but I'm too afraid to tell him.

He finishes tidying up and I go to the spare room. I don't get dressed for bed – I can't – I stay in the top and yoga pants I've been wearing all evening, but I slip my bra off before I climb underneath the thin duvet. I don't have the energy to brush my teeth or wash. I'll do it tomorrow. One night with a day's worth of make-up on my face and fruit juice on my teeth won't kill me.

I lie on the narrow bed and I wonder when this will end. I was so pleased with myself earlier. I hadn't drank and I'd barely thought about Mitchell for days, but now this has all been brought back to me. I turn over and push my head into the pillow, trying to get comfortable. I think of Mike in there with Mitchell and my stomach churns. What if Mitchell does something to him? What if …?

Twelve hours. He has twelve hours in there. That isn't long. He'll be fine. He has to be fine.

X X X

 _I'm standing in Harvey's apartment – the sunlight streaming through the windows and casting shadows on the floor. The furniture – the buildings – me – him … HIM!_

 _I turn around and see Mitchell standing behind me. He's tidying up, plumping up cushions, moving coffee cups over to the kitchen island. I'm wearing white. A short white nightdress that rises to my thighs. He's wearing black – jeans, shirt, sweater. "I'm going to work now" he says._

 _I don't answer him. I can't. I feel afraid but I can't speak. My legs won't move … my arms …_

… _my arms are tied behind me. And I can't scream. I feel him wrap the rope around one of the pillars in Harvey's apartment. Then he wraps it around my stomach and it's so tight that it's cutting into my skin. "Stay here until I get back," he says._

 _And still I don't speak. I hear him leave the apartment and then Mike's there. He's facing away from me. He's wearing blue overalls – prison overalls. "Mike". I say his name but he doesn't turn around. His body is trembling. He rubs his hands together and his body shakes. He's sobbing. "Mike" I say again._

 _Then he turns and I see blood on his hands. I cry out to him._

" _I'm sorry Donna," he says. "I'm sorry," he repeats. "Please forgive me. I didn't know it was him. I didn't know."_

" _What's happened?" I ask._

 _Mike moves towards me and tries to loosen the ropes. There's blood on my clothes, blood on my legs … I don't know why. "I'm sorry," Mike repeats. "I'm sorry, but this is all your fault. You never loved Mitchell. You love Harvey. Why did you do it? Why did you sleep with him all those times? Why did you send him crazy? Why did you let him believe he loved you?"_

 _I start to cry. "Why are your hands covered in blood, Mike? What have you done?"_

 _And then Mitchell is standing behind him with blood pouring from his chest. "This is your fault, Donna," he says, mirroring Mike's words. And then he drives a knife straight through Mike's skull and I start to scream … and I can't stop screaming …_

X X X

I can hear nothing but the sound of my own screams.

I can't hear his voice. I can't feel his arms around me because I'm fighting him away. I'm pushing him, shoving him, hitting him … and my throat is sore.

I feel Harvey's hands tighten around my arms. He's holding me still and it's as if I'm back in that dream, tied to the pillars. I kick. I punch. He forces me down on the bed, ignoring the assaults to his own body. I feel myself weaken as he pins me down. My chest strains as I gasp for air, each inhalation scratching my throat until I'm rasping and choking.

Then, I feel his arms around me, pulling me up and into his lap – one hand circles my waist, the other pulls my head into his chest. I slowly realise where I am and who I'm with. It's as if I'm an actor moving from one scene to another, playing a part in a play. Disjointed. Out of sync. This isn't reality, it can't be. It doesn't feel real.

I grip Harvey's arms. "I'm sorry," I say. I know I'm forever apologising, but this time I need to. I've just punched and kicked the living daylights out of him.

"There's nothing to be sorry for," he says for the umpteenth time over the last few weeks. "I shouldn't have said anything earlier. I should have realised it would frighten you and give you another nightmare."

"How could you know? I didn't know this would happen, never mind you. I want to be normal, but I'm never going to be normal again, am I? This is who I am now."

"Don't say that," he says as he kisses the top of my head. "You've just got to give it some time."

"I've given it time. But it keeps … just when I think I'm getting better I go back to being afraid again. I hate feeling like this."

He holds me tighter and I nuzzle my cheek against his chest, feeling his heart beating under his t-shirt. "You had another nightmare that's all. You're not drinking again, you're beating this … and you're not pushing me away. Look at us." He kisses the top of my head again and I try to smile because I know at least we've gotten over that unbearable separation. "I'm not scared of hurting you anymore. I'm here, I'm not going anywhere. Not ever."

He lies me back down on the chair-bed and he stays with me, lying beside me, his back wedged up against the wall and my back melting into his body. "Can you stay with me?" I ask as I feel his arms tighten around my waist.

"I'll stay as long as you need me," he replies and he starts to stroke my hair, smoothing it over my neck and coiling the ends around his fingers.

I close my eyes and exhale, trying to force my body to relax, but his touch is keeping me alert. I'm tired, my throat is sore from screaming and my limbs are desperate for sleep, but as I feel his fingers creeping down my arms, caressing soft shapes onto my skin, my body groans under his touch. I push back into him, but then I remember that time – a few days after the attack. I had needed him so much and I wanted him to erase what Mitchell had done to me. That time he'd drove me away, afraid of where we were headed …

… but this time he pulls me closer. I wonder if he's doing this because he thinks I need it. I wonder if he's doing it because when he ran off last time it ended up with me leaving his place for Rachel's and him having a panic attack … I hear Dr. Agard's voice in my mind telling us we should stay in separate beds … but he doesn't stop holding me and I don't stop wanting more.

His hands move from my arms to my stomach, dipping under my top, moving lightly over me until my skin pricks with goosebumps. I feel desire build up low down in my abdomen, a dull throb pulsing between my legs and suddenly I don't care about anything else in the world – not Mitchell, not work, not my stupid rule – nothing. I just want to be loved by him. Properly loved.

The lights are low in the room, the walls lined with bookshelves, the floors stacked with boxes of belongings – the story of Harvey's life. His childhood, his college years, his career. Everything about his past is stored in this room from old Harvard memorabilia to Old Ben, his favourite teddy bear. It feels right that we should be here somehow.

He brushes my hair to one side and I feel his mouth on my neck. I freeze for a moment, wondering if this is real. Is he real kissing me? I turn around in his arms … slowly … my eyes locking with his. The warm ceiling light casts soft shadows on his face but I can see a spark in his eyes … a look that tells me he's sure and that he wants this.

I lie on my back, my gaze fixed upon him as he smiles down at me beautifully. I sink into the soft mattress as his hands rise higher, his fingertips brushing over my abdomen, dancing lightly at the edge of my chest and then sweeping back down in circular motions … and then he stops …

I touch his arm, urging him to continue and he bites his bottom lip. "Donna … I need to know you're sure …?" he asks. I answer by raising myself up on my elbows and reaching around his neck. I bring my mouth to his and suck gently on his bottom lip. He returns the kiss with a stronger more urgent one of his own. And suddenly I'm peeling off my top and helping him pull his t-shirt over his head.

He lowers me back down and places kisses from my mouth to my stomach, letting his tongue trail around the peaks of my breasts before returning to my lips. I push my tongue against his, tasting him furiously. One of his hands is under my head, supporting me as his kisses intensify. The other is hand is moulded to my breast, kneading softly, his thumbs rubbing gently over my nipple until it tightens and electrifies my arousal.

We both pull off the rest of our clothing, manoeuvring our legs under the duvet like a couple of sneaky teenagers. I feel his hardness press into my stomach and my breath catches in my throat, but I don't have a second to gasp for air before he starts kissing me again – and then I think I'm only alive because I'm inhaling his breaths.

I feel his hands run over my hips and I respond by raising one leg over his body, moaning into his mouth when I feel his cock pushing against my pelvis. We're both lying on our sides, wrapped up in each other's arms when I feel him guide himself inside me. It's slow and gentle and unlike any sex I've ever had with anybody before, but the tenderness of his touch makes the emotions of the act even more powerful.

Our eyes lock as we slowly move together, building up a slow rhythm. He reaches for my hand and pulls it to his chest, his fingers entwining with mine and holding on tight as his movements speed up. We don't kiss, we don't caress, we don't talk, we just gaze into each other's eyes and let the sensations our bodies are making speak for us.

My breathing quickens as I feel a current of electricity build, ripple, then pulse around me. I feel myself tighten, then shake, then convulse as I cry quietly into the pillow. His body reacts by mirroring mine, and I can see his own climax suddenly erupt. His hand breaks free of my grasp and he withdraws and flips onto his back, making sure we're safe from complicating our impromptu love-making.

I run my hand over his chest as his shallow breathing slowly returns to normal. He wraps his arm around me and kisses my head in that way he does that shows me he loves me and that he'll always be here for me.

I expect him to get up and shower, but he doesn't move. He stays on his back, his arms enveloping me until I start to feel myself drifting off to sleep.


End file.
